Grandpa's Dandelions
The only man I ever knew
who wore a beret and plaid purple pants well
kept a pocket knife at the ready
to make his assault, anywhere, anytime.
He could always be found, stooped to the ground
digging the roots. He had to get it all.
His aim to rid the world of those billowing lion heads
spreading their seed and flowers beloved by children.
It’s spring, my yard
a blanket of yellow flowers.
A travesty to that warriors memory,
a family embarrassment
Forgive me grandfather. I love bees, and you
would strain your back just to see their first food.