Doughty Dandelion

Admire the doughty dandelion,
groping in the dark,
growing blind, determined to be seen;
through prison pot it finds a hole,
a skylight in the soil,
from which to sprout its toothy, leafy green.

Its taproots long, however slight
its stem or flower may be;
it's yellow, yes, but not the least afraid;
each plant will fight for sun and air
in any nook or crack;
its shoots will cut through tarmac like a blade.

Each specimen, however small
or spindly it may seem,
will find a place to flower and spread its seed.
Admire the doughty dandelion,
no dungeon underground
has ever stopped this plant we call a weed.

poem © Celia Warren 2013

Well, I seem to be better. Am eating gentle-on-the-stomach morsels, and that seems to be having the desired effect. Bank Holiday weekend here we come: have a good one, folks!