There I am, a seed.
No where that I know have I landed,
Or even that I “know”,
At all
I’m just there
Conditions ripe for me to become an “m” in all there is.
MMMMMMEM
Echoing against the quantum ground until
maybe a day when my shell cracks as I thin..
Or prolonged rains to split me as I swell,
Either way, water seeps so slowly in
and I in the sun
germinate like clockwork,
for a chance of success.
As I lay warming,
in her vibrations,
Ancient ‘memories’ stir,
that I’m of valuable worth with a prize of my own.
Reconstituting like sea monkeys, waters softens my seed pod;
mitochondria reawaken,
the hive mind goes on-line
and is focused on making a plant out of me.
Slowly, then
begin I
to unfurl.
Roots first,
Tentatively reaching,
Guided by alchemical thirst- an insatiate part of being.
Mitochondria now hungry
charged up
Ready to go,
just needed a little water
to get protons to flow.
For my roots though,
needs are simple
– ground,
Air, water, and warmth.
My true glory’s a little later-
bequeathed by emerald chloroplast beads.
Both give oxygen to nature,
and fodder for the bees.
With a bit of bright bit of sun,
my seed cap will grow,
So location, while helpful
as a weed, I’m not choosy,
if you really must know!
Because to a seedling dandelion
at least at first, Without a strong root,
You’re nothing,
but dirt.
I know not where I’ve landed,
my seed I might add,
For a dandelions rarely planted,
Unless used for a salve.
So for now, I’m content,
In my little seed pod self
To warm and to reach
Filtering all that’s to me dealt.
Unfolding inexorably and
hopefully integrity,
my veritable being
stays grounded and centered,
focusing on digging.
Respiring, making channels
called by fertilizers N,P,K
a balanced garden with companions,
totally leads the way.
You see, mitochondria
need full exercise, to be robust, fat, and plenty.
but with fasting or neglected
become slender, even thready.
Unfortunately (?) dandelion,
growing this way and that,
has a long long long tap root
that from an inch, will grow back.
A veritable Prometheus
my resilience abounds
and all because a few mitos
remained deep in the ground.
How many humans you know
Need resilience
day-by-day,
who despite their stripped taproot,
Persist, thrive and stay?
!
My dandelion leaves
Spread in flat rosette,
“Stay flat and shiny”,
I seem to be saying.
“Promote not even one little bit,
or it will be easy to be gotten quit”.
Sso my advice in the meanwhile,
just saying, so you know,
If you want to be missed, but live,
In the garden stay low.
For up you’ll soon sprout,
A tall graceful stalk
Topped with
Your all too soon-to-be,
Radiant top.
Your corolla of bracts
Counting nearly to thirty,
must each one gently loosen
Before you’ll be pretty.
Each bract opens, very Slowly at first,
When they peel back,
then humans know,
That a flower can be forced.
Sun beating down on air –
I’m content and smiling,
perfect in every way.
You don’t know this as a plant,
but your brothers in greener hills
got a better chance at thriving.
Instead, they stuffed themselves silly,
with resources and clay
grew too big
for the roses
who told on them
To the gardener that day.
The the grandest of my “flowers”
In a dandelion way,
Are the ones left the longest
Standing tall in the shade.
And then
flower by flower,
I’m a composite you see,
Each petals lengthens longer,
Collecting water, pollens, and seeds
And then when I’m ready,
A dry wind comes along
and rips my flower head off
Freeing my corona of seed crown.
Sometimes I’m really lucky
when a quiet child nears my being,
Not trampling, screaming, kicking,
she’s quite pensive to me.
In that instant when I see her, and know that she sees me,
A thought goes passing through her
for the wish
That I offer with me.
For the imprint of my beauty,
Flashes deep within her eyes.
An literal Yod colored silver
dances brightly from the sky.
Maybe she wishes for a brother,
or sister,
’tis true,
But perhaps she ‘s sad, not really glad
From living in a veritable stew.
She lifts her eyes as I sail on high
hoping to balloon away like me too.
