To my old friend Bob Shelby, who inspired me to attempt a fifteen-line sonnet on the theme of Dandelions and whatever symbolic meaning one might want to attach to them.

A Yellow Bravery

A dandelion in the lawn
hides nothing from the jaundiced eye
of those who view askance such spawn;
who’d sooner dig it up to die
than see this vulgar volunteer
pollute with poetry the strain
which, fertilized with dung of steer,
conforms in green without a stain
of yellow. Yet – as passerby,
and sky above, and browsing deer
can all attest: this gaudy guy
lives in the open, not in fear.

To gardeners in their pruning throes:
Please leave behind a root that grows.
I’d know them all again, my woes.

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2009