Southern Legitimacy Statement: I started out with “I’m southern ’cause I wanna be,” went on to become the Poetry Editor, and then the Poetry Editor Emeritus of this here Mule. Long live all the dead mules, especially this one.
A yellow flower pops up
A yellow flower pops up
on a green lawn. A girl bends low,
picks a flower to give to her mother.
A child loves the flower,
the weed adults tend to favor less.
The child blows seeds from the puff ball,
white feathery globe of potential.
The seed is the heart of the flower—
tiny in flight but profoundly fecund.
Each seed floats with the wind,
grows where it lands, blossoms
in sunshine or rain, while I kneel
and pray for a dandelion heart.
