Flower in a Weed's Body

[carose59]

Flower in a Weed's Body


Dandelions have no idea they aren't flowers.

Spring seems to erase all the boundaries
between my self and all the growing things,
and I can tell you:
dandelions have no idea they aren't flowers.

I walk past sudden green yards,
overcome.
Even if I could abandon my whole life to it,
there's just not enough time to get to know every
                                wildflower,
every weed--
and not enough energy to grieve them all.
They live doomed to be the forest
never overshadowed by a single tree.
They are not special.
Dandelions have no idea they aren't flowers.

Golden as the daffodil,
soft as any buttercup,
wilder than forsythia even ever dreamt of being--
              dandelions--
 impolite,
  unflowerlike,
   infiltrate.
Any tiny crack--in cement or winter's cold--
    is room enough to break through.



Dandelions have no idea they aren't flowers.
No one has told them flowers can’t be stubborn,
must stay only where they're planted
(not that any crocus ever did).

Disobedience is what makes a weed.
But dandelions don't know that.
 Immoderate
 immodest
unembraced--
Dandelions have no idea they aren't flowers.

But when they're gone, no flower--not marigolds
nor day lilies,
not  tulips nor even roses mimicking the sun--

Not one of those lovely belles-invited-to-the-ball
 has ever left behind what a dandelion leaves:
a billion pale,
          pirouetting ghosts
             fluttering in the breeze.

Comments

[melodyclark.livejournal.com]

Absolutely stunning. There are too many phrases I love to excerpt them all. Your work reminds me a lot of Robert Frost, which is saying a lot, since I love Frost.

[carose59.livejournal.com]

I'm a great lover of Frost myself, so I've just been basking in this, & feeling quite giddy over over it. Thank you very much!