(On surprising a neighbor lady at play.)
Do they matter anymore
the inclinations of age?
If she stoops
with a groan and
grit at the knees
predisposed to
care, bowed
in sorrow, but
what daring
here in bending
plucks
a dandelion
ratchets upright
to puff
that tuft onto
the breeze
the air about her
snow-globed
resolved in a
weathered smile
if you squint
so much like
that one in the
faded Polaroid?
Tony Gentry 
Once our son told his son that were he a king, he’d outlaw dandelions. I still enjoy seeing them, but I get his point — they are ubiquitous and spread like wildfire. And those tap roots . . . . Glad you found a way to celebrate your neighbor as she celebrates dandelions.
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As a kid I worked one summer on a farm where the lady owner (a city girl from Chicago who’d decided to go the Green Acres route), used to pick dandelions for their hips to make tea. Everyone made fun of her for drinking tea made from weeds – of course, now it’s considered cool!
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