Our neighbour pays the children 1 cent head money per bloom. Why?
So you don’t turn into a puffball. But why is this not allowed?
Dandelion, you excess of fruitfulness, 5000 seeds gliding out every year, surpassing 100 metres. Enemy of the lay gardener. You spread across the beds, dodging the blade again and again.
Puffball, you are the child star in the springtime. Only grown-ups revile you.
I too have cut you down, but only to protect your splendour. The wind is getting stronger;
I take my gift into the house.