You loathe me.
I can tell by the way
you drive dulled prongs
into the soil
and twist.
Or plunge your rusted wedge
into my heart of secrets,
to loose my grip
on life.
I see the way you look at me
when I resist,
the bile rising in
your eyes.
What is it that offends?
Your vapors leave me
breathless, stinging,
withering
on Why?
Don’t you know your war is folly?
For even as I wilt,
my sister sheds her crown of
fresh seed tears
to spite your pride.
©2016 by Barbara Froman
Barbara Froman 
This summarizes my own battle of feelings about dandelions. They are unfairly maligned and important to bees and other pollinators, yet decades of conditioning screams, pull them, pull them. I resist the urge to pull more each year. It’s a slow battle.
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I understand, Michael. We’ve got so used to regarding them as weeds, that we’ve overlooked not only how vital they are to the ecosystem, but also how nutritious they are for us. I’ve eaten wild dandelion greens and have enjoyed them tremendously. What a shame that we are trying to eradicate such a valuable green.
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I’ve eaten them, too, collecting them from the backyard to sample, after reading about their nutritional value. I found them tasty. Cheers
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So glad!!
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Barbara,
Love this poem about the lowly dandelion, but then I do love them.
~nan
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Thanks, Nan. So do it. They are unfairly maligned. B
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