It is a risk, isn't it, to give your love
so completely to the hardy yellow heads
of dandelions you can't bring yourself
to pull up from the yard, leaving them
blazing like small stars around which unseen
worlds keep spinning. The petals arranged
in the shape of a crown so the flower can hear
bees and other pollinators as they fly near,
so it can, in those few slim instants, choose
to sweeten its nectar, making sure that
others learn of this sudden feast over which
you now hover, kneeling before the plant
some would call a weed, missing out on
these commonplace miracles dropped
like lucky pennies everywhere at our feet.
-James Crews
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