She took such delight
With a limber willow switch
In beheading the dandelions
That chanced upon our lawn
Her brother labeled her
Our garden inquisitor.
And we, so far removed
From four-year-old fury,
Felt only small alarm
When viewing those tiny
Dandelion skulls.

Now that she has left us,
They grow to full supremacy
Those three-inch towers
Green above a lesser green
And live past golden bloom
To white the summer lawn
As if snow had somehow survived
Or winter had come too soon.

The Green World, a Journal of Verse
Vol. 4, No.1, 1966
Also published in Quixote: Northwest Poets, 1968

Robert Hoeft
Ashland, OR