Awaiting the Day to Come

When she came home, late one night,
The dandelions had all gone to sleep.
But by the next morning, they were awake,
Full and yellow and kissed with dew,
Awaiting the day to come.

She kept the dandelions in her yard
As long as she could without the neighbors
Turning up their noses.
They might be weeds, but they were weeds with smiles
And weeds that helped the bees,
And weeds that announced that spring had come.

And, after all, even after the mower
Had done its job, ridding her little yard
Of the “weeds,” she knew it would only
Be a matter of days before they returned–
Full, and yellow, and kissed with dew
Awaiting the day to come.

Copyright Sarah Davidson 2021

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