Maskrosbollar (Dandelion clocks)

No longer do I wait
for primulas and catkins,
for birch leaf buds or the lark
or the lovely buzz of spring.
Nowadays I wait for
the quiet time of evening,
when we shall celebrate twilight
together in our house.

No, now it is no longer
the pink that enchants me,
as I have gained some years
and left some years behind.
Now I watch in wonder
the white dandelion clocks
that the suns in the grass
have left behind.