Wacky, Wondrous, Whatever Wednesday #2

Emily Dickinson is one of my favorite poets. Some of her work is challenging for me to grasp, others seem too dark to want to grasp. I came across this one and it reminded me of spring, my yard, gardens, flower beds, a memory from along this my 49th year, and my soul.

We should not mind so small a flower-

Except it quiet bring

Our little garden that we lost

Back to the Lawn again.

So spicy her Carnations nod-

So drunken, reel her Bees-

So silver steal a hundred flutes

From out a hundred trees-

That whoso sees this little flower

By faith may clear behold

The Bobolinks around the throne

And Dandelions gold

Years ago, very early '80's I taught exercise classes. One place I was asked to teach was at the state mental health facility. Here, the class was a small group of in patient Down's Syndrome young adults. The class posed a challenge for me as I had to keep it so simple. After about the third class we kind of had a routine. One of the students, a young man, came running in late, full force towards me. I braced myself for impact, grateful he stop inches away. He had his right hand behind his back and he bore the most beautiful, innocent smile I have ever had the honor to see. His eyes sparkled and danced as he swiftly brought his right hand out from around his back and held a clinched fist up before me. "Open!" he said. The others in the class gathered around with shrieks of joy. I carefully pried his fingers open, one by one. His knees bounced up and down in anticipation for me to expose his palm. Lying there, in his hand, was a ruffled little yellow dandelion. "For you!" excitedly he said with pure love.

To this day, I never pick the dandelions from my yard or gardens, for they are as gold to me. May you too be graced with dandelions!

(a Bobolink is a song bird)