of dandelions and war
here we are in the garden, the worms burrowing deep,
straight to the core,
and our feet, reaching no lower than the grass,
struggle to lose no ground.
you saw that the dandelion stem, when pressed,
bleeds milky white.
and yet the childern still play war torn games.
dandelions fall in excruciating record numbers
leaving behind the mass graves of mid-summer carnage.