Dandelion Woman

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!