Gevurah sh’b Hod*
Dandelion seed heads about to lift
flared feathered wings onto the breeze.
and I cannot bend to pluck, nor inspire

with my breath to airy flight—
since yesterday I dug a wide deep hole
to refurbish the septic tank’s cracked lid

then pried with fury dandelions
from the earth, bending my way
across the yard for hours.

I pulled so many back muscles
I wince and gasp each time I yawn
or laugh, which helps me welcome

the Mystery’s gifts of boundaries and limits—
limits of my aging body,
limits of our common mother-body.

Chasing false splendor, a golf course
eligible green sward of lawn,
unmindful of splendor’s true flow—

source to source—we so easily awaken bent
or broken from infringement, trespass,
transgression, breach.

Ya, help me discover the joy and peace
of allowing everything around me
to just be—dandelion seed heads

about to lift onto the breeze
flared feathered wings.
                                                5/7/2012
       *Boundaried Strength w/in True Splendor’s Humble Presence