The Commoner

THE COMMONER There are different varieties of me In the azuline light, I swirl and twirl And sometimes become dim. Some favour Bellis Perrenis version of me In the spring Some sophists are partial to prunnela vulgaris Not the folks; vacuous and dripping in Bulgaris My favourite form of myself is sheep’s sorrel My buds emerge from upright stems Red tinted and warier spirited! My tender leaves garnish the salads I even curdle the fresh milk My temperament is never mercurial Folks call me stoic Many ailments I cure Though Zizania is an acquired taste for the elegant folks But feeds the poor. Yet I am a commoner: I am the weeds And I grow wild and unruly. By nature, I am weeded out To give way to planets tame and sweet. There is also human species of me The un-showy ones or the wild ones. Other human beings desire to weed them out To create space for humans; faux-sweet or tame.