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Dandelions
Little
Bright, yellow heads
Despised not for beauty.
That are here, there and everywhere
I tread
Ever
so cautiously
In your meadowy home
Amidst copious genera
Alone.
Solo
But not really
Alone. Strolling along
Accompanied by my friends at
My feet.
Brushing
Jagged edged leaves-
Like baby lion’s teeth.
So aptly named dent de lions.
Lead on!
Yellow
Companions. The
Season is waning. Your
Feathery, cotton heads reveal
Its end.
poem
by
Albert Ahearn
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