The Dandelions

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The Dandelions

Dandelions

I wandered idly o'er the grass,

And lonely, too (pandemic's on)

And there, on turf where woodchucks pass

I saw them: golden in the sun.

In clumps and pairs, beneath the sky,

Gladdening and challenging the eye.


'Look here,' they say, 'the winter's gone

And we've returned to feed the bees.

Across your melancholy lawn

We'll spread our blessing between trees.

Beside the walk where bunnies hop,

We'll grow and grow and never stop.'


Their gawdy hue 'gainst greensward gleamed.

Their cheeky glee chased gloom away.

Surrounded by such wealth, it seemed

A poet could not but be gay.

Achieve this, Bezos, if you will,

With all your billions and man's skill.


And now, when I express dismay

At all the messes we have made,

Human affairs in disarray,

Our future sorrows on parade…

I think of dandelions: they fit

In their spring niche – and never quit.
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