Over The Septic Bed

May 29 2017

The dandelions materialized

over the septic bed

in the moment I looked away.

The first warm day

of a see-saw spring.

Yet today, in a chilly rain

they seem to have vanished

in the green expanse of lawn.

Flowers closed,

cozy, in their supple collars

snugged tight around their necks.

The eerie intelligence of weeds;

as sensible as mothers, tut-tutting

about catching cold,

yet alien

in their hive-mind menace

metastatic spread.

So why is it that every season

I find myself seduced

by this fresh-faced beauty,

bright yellow flowers

on succulent stems?

The first green flush of lawn

reminds me of a beautiful girl

in a summer dress,

cheerful polka-dots

on cotton chiffon.

The wind, ruffling the long loose folds

of its modest skirt,

her fresh-scrubbed face

framed by a high-cut neck.

Only later, will she turn,

leggy, and razor-edged

promiscuous seed.

A salad

of dandelion greens,

before the leaves become bitter

and tough.