Yooper for a Day
Yooper for a Day
I want to know what the dandelions know:
Buttercups pronouncing spring’s last snow.
Piercing U.P.-Michigan’s unfrozen soil,(1)
Witnessing ice-cracked streams’ re-newed flow.
I want to go where the dandelions go,
High in god’s sky, on wind or child’s blow,
On hope-luckied palms, yellow-rubbed, strong life-boiled,(2)
Summer gardens now ready to sow.
I want to grow like the dandelions grow,
Glory upstretching, rich roots below,
Two-headed twins, metamorphosed, self-sex’d foils,(3)
Like spun Earth, at seed, “A perfect globe.”
I want to know what those Yoopers know:
That neighbors are family,
That American Legions transcend churches,
That dandelion greens with
Homegrown tomatoes nourish souls
Through long warm summers,
Through joys and delights and despairs.
(1)Blanketing shores once as tall as Alps,
(2)Alongside mayflies curt invasion,
(3)Waldenic, scenic observation,
(4)Geologically, surely as a Great Lake.
I want to know what that Superior knows:
Cool breezes bubbled from deep to
Push rock-smoothing waves ashore,
Wearing down hard obstacles,
Depositing ingredients for progeny’s
Homesteads and grounds: for
New springs’ new awakenings.
I want to know what those dandelions know;
Just us heralding new ways to know:
Strewn strong and deep, like a tough-hewn Yooper’s toils,(4)
Proclaiming: “Season’s short, grow now, go!”
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