
Ode to the Dandelion
They pop up unannounced, Unwanted, Dreaded by some. Tiny green sprigs brighten the dull brown of the winter lawn. They are the first to herald the spring scene, And they are the last to whisper “farewell” in the autumn. Soon bright yellow blossoms add color to spring’s welcome mat. “Dent de lion,” “Lion’s teeth” they are called, Ready to devour that lush, green lawn. Pull one out and, like Hydra, two will replace it. Quickly the yellow blossoms fade, Churning out small, cottony puff balls. Children delight in running with them Blowing the gossamer wisps in the air Launching their wishes on the wind. They rise like miniature hot air balloons Riding high wherever the wind takes them, Only to descend