Everyday, we find reason to drive past the trainyard
where the river runs along the north of the city.
Under JMW Turner clouds, the lazy cluster of rusted cars
huddles in plain sight; Dylan’s idiot wind takes no pity
on the overgrowth of dandelions taking residence at their cavernous doors.
Nice imagery. I love the explosion of dandelions there in the end. I wrote about dandelions too!
Thank you. I need to find yours. There were so many good takes on this prompt.