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Oh look here— behold a dandelion woman
the original wild flower!
I go where I want to go
I grow where I want to grow —
don't matter if   y o u   say no

dandelion wine summertime
relax and recline —  remedy just-in-time
I’ll intoxicate all your senses
in all your seasons
rearrange your reasons
breathe your breath with mine
watch me evolve; 
a peasant..  a star..  a Ferris wheel…

…ah, dandelion woman… 
not to be dismissed as an ordinary weed
I’m a sun dapple come to life
an earthly offspring of the Sun
a mother to a meadow of sun dapples
daughter of an old flour-haired mother
fertile as the Flower Moon —
a mirror of midday and midnight gods
my complexion nectar and milk

immortalized in paints of Van Gogh
a sweet dandy-lass who beams beneath pines
a Venus who dreams at sunrise 
and gleams in moonrise
yet I push my wheelbarrow through fields
and sow sparks for larks as I sew my tapestry
I savor rain like Chardonnay 
dine on dust of drought
and rust of doubt
I am a land warrior
a soul of the soil…
but my dreamy head 
wears a cumulus cloud for a crown
a white-angora-fedora of hope
I’m a wind-rider;  
a sky-diver   a paraglider
my parachute in wanderlust —

I’ve outlasted Boreas and his surreal boreal moods
this artic-haired  cold-aired  gale-breathing god 
a skin-and-soul-seducer 
… his whisk of breath against my cheek
oh! the risky frisk of his brisk hands… 
my body his firestone as I alone became his own
his robe of polar fur spread horizons of caribou tundras
his steed— a motley stomping-stallion-storm
weaving then leaving a soothing or bruising fate
amid white wonderlands and boney lonely barrens

     beech-tree-bosom-branches
        droop-laden 
            with froth of winter milk
         soft as maiden eiderdown
     lattice-branches a lush white cage
 daylight’s fever-flush soaked a rosé rose upon snow
his opiate voice  I heard    a hypnotic antibiotic…
troubadour’s sing-song-sigh warmed icicles to weep

     the locked-jaw-bite 
      of frost-fanged badlands
         his northern lash gripped my skin
             like the cling-sting of a whip 
            as storms muscled in and hit with closed fists
        his snow-squall-voice gusted  
   furious words fell heavy  
 accumulating…  drifting…  burying…
   but winter man’s blizzards couldn’t kill the bison
      they couldn’t —no— they wouldn’t kill me! 

Yes, look here!
this blonde daisy-weed 
unplugs lightning
and tangles tongues of thunder!
my sauciness shows in my naughtiness 
as I sit among orchids snake-eyed
their prattle hissed through snaring lips 
baring rattlesnake-venom-teeth 
… ha! the “cultivated” — so uncultivated! 
while soft embrace of rumble-voice bees humbles me

I’ve been stepped on
Hell! I’ve been trampled
yet here I bloom
sunny-smile-side up
(not one to moon)
I make peace with cracks in concrete
roam side roads 
grow between cobblestones
found an emerald field
spread my gold

I live..    
l - i - v - e ..     
L I V E !!  
where I breathe
a patch of ground 
my launchpad into the universe
I’m country girl flannel-shirt-cozy
and a bleak-city-streets survivor

Yes, look here!  behold
I am the original Farrah-haired wild flower—
a  hands-on-my-hips  smirk-on-my-lips  
dandelion woman!
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