My Life as a Dandelion

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Weedy and seedy, that’s me.

Not wedding bouquet material
But I adorn the heads of children
As milky fingered
They weave me into a crown
and regally wave to passers by

My husband’s name is William
Pronounced “Vill-helm” if we were properly German.
However we are not properly German
As evidenced by our butchering of our last name
Which we pronounce Weber.
Not Weeber, or Veber.

Vill-helm means helm of resolution
“You’re stubborn!” His mum chastised.
“Not stubborn! Resolute!” He countered.

Resolute
Stubborn
Like the dandelions proliferating in my backyard.
Mow em down
They spring up again.
Mow em down
They spring up again.

Like the old man in the Monty Python movie
“I”m not dead yet! Really I’m feeling quite fine!”
Or the soldier whose opponent systematically hacks off all his limbs.
“It’s only a flesh wound!” I cry.

It’s only a flesh wound.

Weedy and seedy.

How many of my companions
Have clutched me in their grasp,
Blowing their wishes into the receptive air?
Dreams and disappointments together
Tracing curlicues in flight?

They flutter and twirl
Land and curl
Their way into the receptive earth.

Don’t cry
It’s not dead.
It’s only a seed
Watch and wait for the unveiling
It will spring up again.

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