Wednesday, November 27, 2013


Dandelions, ©Aliki Barnstone 


I like dandelions, though most say they’re weeds.
In Greece they’re called wild greens.
Every day the sun shines this stormy spring,

I swear I’ll harvest, steam, and serve them
with extra virgin olive oil, lemon, and salt,
yet I don’t make the time because I’m not

a wizard who knows how to rip the minutes
and hours out of the universe by their roots
the way I used to pull up dandelions and clover.

If time were a garden, I guess the sunset hours
would be the peonies and rarest fragrant roses
and the weeds would be the seconds that spread

into minutes and hours and choke the life
out of what I most cherish. Perhaps.
If I could harvest the dandelions and cook them

perfectly, I wonder if my concoction would be
eternity served on a white platter with a tall carafe
of red wine and a basket of homemade bread
to a table crowded with all my loved ones.

©Aliki Barnstone, appears in Enchanting Verses, Issue XIX, 2013

"Greens," ©Aliki Barnstone