Dense green leaves push sunward from between the cracks.
Sprouting from the over nurtured, the ill valued; prisons of conceited possession.
The Dandies bid for life, to bloom, be free; prevailing through destruction and control.
Neighbours spray poison relentlessly; Killer with killers.
Down on pristine knees; a homicidal mission.
One never understood that murderous desire.
Holding admiration for their persistence to live; punching through suffocating concrete.
Taking back the malnourished earth; grey to green.
Converting the controlled, over preened to wild and free.
Children blow wishes into the ether from their seed heads.
How can one not appreciate the beauty, innocence, thirst for life and freedom mirrored in the Dandelion?
It offers much, this humble wildflower weed.
The regard of wild things as weeds, one may never understand.
Like unruly children and nonconformist adults; weeds of society.
Pests of the pretentious empty garden; still they persist…
© Natasha Sinclair