I've been watching a dandelion
that sprouted in the pot on the porch
with the string of pearls a couple months ago.
Snuck in there while I was distracted.
The string of pearls don't seem to mind sharing.
Bloomed, briefly, as they do, a pretty yellow blossom,
but nothing special; the special is when
they go to seed and form that downy globe.
And no, I haven't blown them to the wind.
I'll leave that to God and the whims of the breeze.
The leaves are edible, my iguana loved them.
And there is dandelion wine which I've never tried,
but I read Bradbury's book when I was a sprout.
The clover is speckling the turf with tiny white bursts.
They pop up and last until the maintenance crew
comes through on their weekly grass-mowing mission.
No mercy for them, but I noticed, the African daisies
in the big vacant lot were spared, God bless 'em.
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