The dandelions slept in lazily, (early birds might say).
They didn’t bother opening their eye,
until the warmth from the sun persuaded them.
Light had nothing to do with it,
dawn and its golden hues didn’t appeal,
but only the warmth
gently pushing against the tightly shut buds
stemmed a long stretch, 
a yawn, 
and a tiny squint, 
towards the promise of comfort.