Gone to Seed

Dandelion Gone to Seed

Dandelion Gone to Seed

No longer showy bright yellow, you have gone to seed.

Camouflaged in your ordinary black and whiteness,

barely noticeable but for catching the light just so.

Tired of the walls of my house from being quarantined,

I bend down to examine your unique architecture.

Childhood memories surface of racing to snatch you up,

thrilled to blow on your soft fuzzy head, nature’s helper

in scattering seeds to the wind so you could sail farther.

Ignorant of the intricacies and intelligence of your design,

I thought you needed me to find your perfect landing place.

Classified a ruderal, a colonizer of rubble or disturbed land,

you appeared in my front yard. Who really belongs here?

I sit down. For now, I’ve been ordered to remain at home.

No one has asked me to analyze the legitimacy of my claim,

and studying your seeds, perfect replicas of your florets

seems more straightforward. You are following nature’s laws.

Tiny hairs are holding your seeds in place, flimsy filaments

that might break apart at any moment without my help.

Most of your puffball is air. I can look right through you.

Airhead, hanging on by a thread, gone to seed, old sayings

based on misinformation and a perspective of superiority.

Whoever came up with these phrases never truly saw you.

Your flower gone and shape transformed, it is not the end.

About to embark on your greatest journey, you are prepared.

and safe too, even if malevolent forces affect your destiny.

Above each seed you have formed a protective air bubble

to stabilize you in wind currents beyond your control.

Balancing steering and letting go comes easily for you,

And you know wherever you land is where you should be.