Who plants all of the dandelions that grow without much care?
They appear to be so hearty as we see them standing there.

They spring up out of nowhere, these inelegant plain weeds,
Awaiting the opportunity to scatter all their seeds.

They stand so tough in weather and appear to be so strong,
Yet with the slightest breeze of breath we see that we were wrong.

With a wish, and a whoosh, they fall apart, we see they cannot stay,
Their feathery, fragile little parts fly aimlessly away.

As I think of dandelions giving way on feathery wings,
I see that their undoing is caused by little things

Through the wind and driving rain and storms they have withstood;
Just the smallest puff of a child’s sweet breath, and poof, they’re gone for good.

And are we like the dandelion that appears to be so strong?
Do we hold up to our biggest trials that plague us for so long?

Withstanding tests, we craftily escape the tempter’s snare,
Then losing sight we turn around to find we’ve faltered there.

Are we so proud of our great strength, and think we cannot fail?
Just remember it’s the little things that grab us by the tail.
©Cassandra Crews