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Dandelion Poem

Once I wrote a poem

folded it and folded again

into a paper dart


On a grassy hillside, I stood

stretched my arm

over trees and ponds

filled with birds and fish

who couldn’t care a fig

for poetry


Floated my poem out over the world


Afterwards, I thought of bees

how they sip each flower

work so tirelessly, cluster like

a brown storm in and out of the hive


How honey trickles golden from a spoon


And how with one sting

used in self defense or anger

they disappear into mounds of leaves

and darkness, their single statement

gone, for ever


I don’t care much about money

or about fame, their artificial

sweetness dissipates like saccharine

leaving a bitter aftertaste


Perhaps a breeze will carry

my poem to some other place or time

land it safely on a patch of grass

or in a bush. Perhaps some passer by

will pick it up, think of dandelions or of bees

read it and smile

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© Johnmichael Simon



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