Ode to the Dandelion

All praise the lowly dandelion weed
which gardeners yank and pull.  The hollow stems
break off in hand, oozing milky sap
from bleeding wounds. First love, butter, revealed
when yellow brushes under chins.  Children
grasp bouquets with chubby fingers for Moms,
who fill jelly jars to display drooping fuzzy heads.

Curses to Roundup™ and lawn services
which stitch bottle green quilts in neighborhoods
without saffron florets in a quest for uniformity.
The French “tooth of the lion” deserves a toast
to its chartreuse blooms that root the soul to soil.

© 2011 Kim King

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About k2king

Poeming to save myself
This entry was posted in My poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Ode to the Dandelion

  1. John Stevens says:

    I very much agree with you on this. Well put and well done!

  2. Evelyn says:

    “The French “tooth of the lion” deserves a toast
    to its chartreuse blooms that root the soul to soil.”
    nice…

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