I motored slowly down the road
so calm and happy, almost high
on summer weather. Long unmowed
on either side the verges showed
a silent crowd of dandelions.
Their lowly heads had not the height
to wave and billow in the breeze;
their flattened faces, packed in tight
could hardly turn and yet the sight
was sunset gold on tropic seas.
Those humble flowers, so despised
by lovers of their lawns, can still
hold up their stunted heads comprised
of tiny, complex florets and will
contest the vaunted daffodil.
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