I stayed my hand on a dandelion--
those posing infestations that leave brown streaks
on shirts
and overtake gardens one property at a time
until whole blocks suffocate in their white fluff.
(I behead them with vengeful satisfaction.)
I stayed my hand because atop the next one
there was a bee
with orange globes of pollen bulging
like two bitty balloons on her legs.
I'm surprised she could still fly.
"Silly thing," I thought, "don't you know
dandelions don't need you to pollenate?"
But this is the first time I've seen a bee,
so I stayed my hand, in hopes that one day
if my actions seem to others
wretched or of little value,
or the work I give goes unthanked,
someone will stay their hand from uprooting it
if for nothing else than the fact that I
am such an unordinary sigh, and let me have
my dandelion
