The scattered dots of gold across the lawns –
Are treasures that we each may look upon –
They are the gifts of God, of time, of space –
And it is not the right of man – to here misplace –
For by the wind – their seed is scattered thus –
A message waiting every year – for each of us.
These golden coins – so scattered by the wind –
They have a purpose here – and in the lives of men.
Their leaves of green provide a food upon this earth.
Their golden blooms make a wine for joy and  mirth.
Stop! Leave my dandelions as they be.
In years to some – they may be feeding thee and me.

Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill
May 1982

Copyright Roy Richard