My pride and joy
This land sweet sown
Sprouts of healthy green.
The hours I spent
And toiled with hand
To make the plot you see.
I dug with trowel
And shovel sans gloves,
So the dirt would merge with me,
A few inches down
To scratch a home
For each hopeful little seed.
Flooding each site
With life through water
And from it the bugs flee.
Now to reward my work
Stalks spring up from bed
As if no more to sleep.
And as if I dreamed
My green thumb up
Because I fail to believe,
I rip them out
To check for roots
And meet them with glee.
No longer doubting
How benevolent
Life can be.
The Proud Dandelion 