Ode to the First Dandelion of Spring

There you sit all alone,
between walk and stairs
But worry not, spring is new
and we’ll soon be tripping
over profuse blooms,
all bathed in dew.

Too soon, your golden mane
turns puffy white,
as your seeds inherit the earth,
at least till the next polar vortex
sends them dormant … again.

Or until Nature’s “preferred species”
(in his own mind) commits herbal genocide.
After all, there’s no cash value,
no commodity exchange for
the golden lions of spring.

–LE