The lawn was mowed. But she,
the dandelion, takes center stage.
The bee’s first nectar of spring,
Bright yellow color and sturdy display;
Stubborn and brave.
Flowering delicate silver seeds
Embraced by the breeze, sends her offsprings
High into the air, without argument, to land in-between
Blades of grass, hiding in the green of night,
To grow in the bright of day.
Not so stubborn and still very brave.
I lean against her slender body,
After dismounting my cricket,
Allowing me her shade.
I tune his wings, as she bends ever so slightly
To listen to our serenade.
Not so stubborn, trustingly brave.