Dandelion Hymn

Golden suns upon the grass,
tiny crowns where footsteps pass,
smiling faces, bright and free,
courtiers of simplicity.

Though gardeners scorn your rooted pride,
you spread your banners far and wide;
with every gust, your children soar—
white-winged hopes to distant shore.

You flourish where the soil is lean,
between the cracks, through stone unseen;
a rebel clothed in yellow flame,
yet humble, bearing no acclaim.

Your leaves give strength, your roots give balm,
your flowers steep in healing calm;
you serve in ways the proud forget,
a gift disguised, a treasure met.

So call you “weed,” dismiss, deride—
still you endure, still you abide;
cheerful sun and silver crown,
you rise each time the world beats down.