Dandelions
I went for a walk with my husband and kids. Every yard seemed littered with dandelions. With my eyes squinted to block relentless sun, I tried counting them. I gave up when it seemed like the precession would never end. Then, I thought how sad it must be to be so hated, day after day, week after week, someone cutting you down, mowing you over, drying you up.
But, dandelions don’t mind. They just come back over and over and over again, continuing to give all they’ve got to the world.
This poem is one of twenty-nine in my debut collection, How Water Flows, available on Amazon.


































































