flowers, poetry


How could it be
oh fringe headed flower
that among my students
you are virtually unknown
a flower so common
it is called a weed
chopped down
weeded out
and cut down
whenever seen
a flower so common
we all knew your name
how you grew
and not to encourage you
to spread yourself so far
How can it be
that my students do not know
that to blow upon your fluffy seeds
is it’s own miracle
and yet
a wish is granted
to those who spread your
bright yellow flower
across the land
blow it now
and seeds will spread
some care not
they do not worry
about your wide leaves
that spread so quick
but others
more fastidious will clench
their jaws or their tight fists
they care not for
your strong broad, leaves
not when they are featured
on their perfectly manicured lawns.
Blow that seed pod
blow it hard now
for they say that
the number of seeds that remain
is equal to
the number of children you will bear.
blow it hard if
if you blow it at all
you cannot afford the thirty
sure to hang on to the pod itself
if blow you must
then blow with vigor
blow it hard
just don’t think to stop.
for the children
you would bear
if you count them all completely
would fill a school
a daycare
or at least a baseball team
Your leaves so broad and full green
can be sautéed for
a spring tonic
sauté them well
so they’re not bitter
but not as bitter
as coffee from your root
How can it be
that the golden blossoms
we weaved into chains
to wear in our hair
or around our necks
is not known
to my young students
so I must teach them
to love you as I do
to know your talents
your magic
your promise.
If so it be
as so it seems
I will be teacher
of all things

(written for day seven of Month of Poetry. I decided to use a photograph from my file as inspiration.)

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