Thank you for Dandelions

Not everyone gets to be a movie star, a great scientist, a tzar, or a specialist in some field that changes the world in the eyes of their peers.
Here in the “garden” there are many flowers; rare orchids, blue blood roses, shrinking violets, heirloom varieties, fragile stems with showy petals, and once in a while—usually in an alley somewhere in Detroit or a dark rest area on the road to nowhere—venus flytraps.

But today I am thankful for dandelions. We call them weeds.
Dandelions are common laborers, survivors, migrants, quick to take root in all the wrong places, getting ripped up and discarded into compost piles and mowed down by special landscapers who think beauty is a contrived walkway to a pristine palace.

No matter how we try to rid our culture of dandelions, they will always return. They will pop up in manicured lawns, create cracks in smooth side walks to poke their cheerful little heads through, and take over entire fields overnight. They are the ultimate in representing survival.

Dandelions don’t know they are not supposed to cross boundaries. They have no care for superficial esthetics or territory marked “elite”. Dandelions are the ones that we can count on to bring color to our world in environments where others would wilt and die. They are worthy of our respect and appreciation.

But even dandelions must abide by the cycles of life. They root, they bloom, they seed, and they let go of the present, to ride breezes into the future. It is the way of all things, this cycle.
But at least dandelions are cheerful while they are here.


~ by leakelley on May 9, 2016.

One Response to “Thank you for Dandelions”

  1. Please tell me this is not Marlene Dietrich. While I love dandelions, I just can’t abide by her. Nothing to do with who she really was, because I know so little about her. I know more about dandelions, than Marlene.

    If, on the other hand, this is someone else, please let me know, so I can appreciate the dandelions without hearing her voice when I think of them. Sounds so harsh, as I reread, but truly, she’s got to go…now. Much like dandelion seeds, yes?

    Hopefully, she and the dandelions will plant themselves in fertile soil, and become something to be adored. I’m sure someone loved her. I love dandelions, and not many people do. We all have our peculiarities. She is not one of mine.

    Thanks for making me feel. That’s the sign of a true poet. Whatareyou, a fuckin’ Shakespeare now? You know what Owen said about him, right?

    Love you,

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