Being a nature lover, I am lucky to have a huge window in my office. I can hear the hum of the mowers as Harold Gahl and Frank Boxleitner pass by the window, as content as children on their mowers. They always have a smile on their face as they keep the lawn and ditches clipped. Along with the green grass come the yellow dandelions, which seem to grow much faster than the grass. Their yellow mass has always intrigued me-- so much so that many years ago, I wrote a poem about them. I would like to share that poem with you, as it may help you to tolerate them or see them in a different light. I believe that there is a purpose for everything under the sun. Although it is hard for us to accept many things, and dandelions and Boxelder Bugs seem to come first and foremost in my mind, yet they are both part of this nature I love. I have yet to compose a poem about Boxelder Bugs, but my wheels are turning, (perhaps in a future column).
THE BEAUTY OF A DANDELION
In winters hard and frozen ground our roots begin to grow.
We are the one of the first to bloom after winters snow.
On cold and rainy days we sleep protected by the grass.
On sunny days the radiant glow makes us a yellow mass.
No one seems to appreciate the reason we appeared.
We are sprayed, pulled and cursed, we are closely sheared.
We represent the obstacles of life, that man must face each day.
We help to build his self-esteem and prod him on his way.
We have a message we have come to tell.
Like our bitter taste and ugly smell.
That all the challenges of man cannot be done by single hand.
Accomplishments will come in time, li k e conquering the mighty dandelion.
Hilda Creasy 4/29/1981