The Dandelion and the Truth of Love

It is quickly becoming winter here in Minnesota. We even had our first snow flurries today! But as I walked on an errand, I saw some brave dandelions still raising their gray, fluffy heads to the sky. I wrote a blog post some time ago about the brave dandelion, and here I revisit the flower with this poem.

Blowing dandelions
in the wind,
cottony white puffs,
softly shining joy and hope,
reminding me of childhood
against a cloudy and bleak sky.

Each seed is a promise,
which will grow into a yellow youth,
deepen into a furry white old age,
and finally give itself up,
in another cloud of seeds,
in love,
in the cycle of earth.

The dandelion whispers to me,
cajoles me gently,
asks me to pause and listen,
as I pass on my hurried way.

Her words are faint, but clear,
“Stop, rest, take joy.
For this moment.

“Ponder, wonder, learn
the natural cycle of love.”

Oh, that we would all take time
to see the little dandelion.
That we would not scoff its simplicity,
or, worse,
call it a weed,
call it the unwanted.

For only in contemplating
the small and the unwanted,
and in drinking the cycles
of the natural rhythms
of season-time,
can we ever discover the Truth
of Love.

Photo used freely, courtesy of Jo Brown on stock.xchng

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