910243 BY JOHN RICH
Dandelions Transcend


     The looking-glass reflects dandelions
Growing in the yard.
     Haughty blooms loom
Over the uniform rank and file of grass blades.

     Homeowners, gardeners, and landscapers,
Call us weeds.
     Day in and day out,
The industrial machinery roars;
     A mighty heartless monster
Rolling over the country side.

     The smoking beast bellows
In a turbulent whirlwind of deadly steel.
     Spinning iron cuts
A wake of death through the yard.
	
     Our roots, fortunately, are firmly attached
To mother earth.
     Saddened, our mother weeps.
	
Weekly,
     We are newly born!
Weekly,
     The weed eater and the lawnmower chop us down.
Weekly,
     We rise up in the sun's image.
	
We, luckily, are not alone on this battlefield.
     Buzzing out of the heavens,
And baring our colors
     Soar the winged fertility gods...
	
Autumn stes.
     Now when the deadly iron cuts us down
Our silvery wings lift us up upon the cyclone.

     Up we soar riding the winds of freedom
Until parachuting into another yard.

-- John Rich #910243

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