Grandpa's Dandelions
The only man I ever knew who wore a beret and plaid purple pants well kept a pocket knife at the ready to make his assault, anywhere, anytime.
He could always be found, stooped to the ground digging the roots. He had to get it all. His aim to rid the world of those billowing lion heads spreading their seed and flowers beloved by children.
It’s spring, my yard a blanket of yellow flowers. A travesty to that warriors memory, a family embarrassment
Forgive me grandfather. I love bees, and you would strain your back just to see their first food.