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Dandelions
“…all the days of his vain life, which he passes like
a shadow….” —Ecclesiastes 6: 12
a shadow….” —Ecclesiastes 6: 12
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____As I stepped out one morning,
____I saw across the lawn
____A yellow audience watching
____The spreading light of dawn
____As last night’s black was turning
____To purple-pink. The sun
____Was not at the horizon
____Quite yet; yet, looking down,
____I thought it must have risen,
____Because the gold, unmown,
____New dandelions shocked my eyes
____Like many tiny suns.
__Or else, an unseen magic wand
__Had turned green lawns to blinding blonde
____Young heads; they all were nodding
____In April’s festive wind,
____As if they were applauding
____The colorful surprise
____Of daybreak’s vibrant skies.
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____A few sunrises later,
____When fiery dawn had faded,
____I looked across the crowded
____Front lawn. No yellow-hatted
____Sky-watchers celebrated
____The day. Now, all gray-headed,
____They looked much less elated—
____And out of the blue, I was stunned
____By the stark reflection that dawned
__On me (as if these short-lived flowers
__Had turned into unwanted mirrors):
____I would be gray and old
____Some day. Their low-slung cloud
____Hung still above the yard;
____It cast a ghostly shroud
____Upon an aging world.
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____And then a taunting gust
____Stripped all the flowers bald,
And flung their hair about like so much dust.
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from Notes on Time
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Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Michigan. Her second collection of poems, Notes on Time, has recently been published by AuthorHouse, as was her first (2005) collection, These Holy Mysteries. Her poems have also appeared in First Things, Modern Age, The North American Anglican, The Orchards Poetry Review, The Book of Common Praise hymnal, and elsewhere. Her Facebook page is “Mysteries and Metaphors.”
THAT was wonderful. Just wonderful. Layered, lyrical. Paced so well. Images lush, yet economical–each to their purpose in the poem. Wonderful.
Thank you very much, Daniel! Coming from the author of “AI’s Promise” and “Coffee with a Them”, your praise means a great deal to me!
It strikes me particularly poignantly because a woman I was twice engaged to was a HSP, an orchid, if you will, but for my durability and flexibility, I was the dandelion. The ending of things in your poem hit me double.
Beautiful! And yet so much said in those last three lines:
__And then a taunting gust
____Stripped all the flowers bald,
And flung their hair about like so much dust.
Emotional. Thank you for sharing
Thank you, Rohini. I’m so glad you connected with the emotional theme of the poem.
The stark reality of how quickly our lives go by and most of us never notice, until one day we look in the mirror and we have become ‘gray-headed’ like the dandelions. Then we wonder how on earth our lives went by so quickly, what have we accomplished, and what may lie ahead.
A great poem, Cynthia.
Indeed, Phil, we pass our lives like a shadow. I’m grateful for your thoughtful comment.
Precious thoughts conveyed and visualized in my mind of the rapid passage of time and the ending of our lives. And yet we have the capability to leave something behind of our being like the dandelion with seeds blowing in the wind.
Very true, Roy. I like the way your comment extends the metaphor further. Thank you!
A beautiful poem, Cynthia, so beautiful I will save it and maybe even enter it in my “God” book, where I save all the poems belonging to Him that speak to me also. I know you don’t speak of Him specifically but He’s in there in the light, the colors, the wind, the time, even the dust. Your “Nocturnal Litanies” are already in there.
Oh, my, jd, what a profound comment! It’s one of the things “The Preacher” of Ecclesiastes shows us: that He is always there, even above the “vanities” of earthly life. I’m overwhelmed that you have my Nocturnal Litanies in your God book, and are planning to add “Dandelions”. Thank you so much for that; I’m truly honored by it.
A poem on transience in several layers: short-lived flowers and weeds, the viewer/speaker surprised over and over, the moral critique of vanity in human life added by the Biblical epigraph. Still, what impresses me is the activity in the poem. About 20 active verbs, with only a couple of them repeated. That’s transience too–a treat for the reader to pass through!
Thank you very much, Margaret. I’m so glad you enjoyed the use of lots of verbs; I don’t recall having especially noticed that when I was writing it, but you are right, and I appreciate your observation of it.
A poignantly beautiful poem, I identify with the dandelions so quickly going to seed and seeing them float away. It brought to mind another scripture,
All flesh is grass,
and all its beauty is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades
when the breath of the Lord blows on it;
surely the people are grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
but the word of our God will stand forever.
I’m grateful for your comment, Alan. Since you mentioned that particular Scripture, here is a link to my poem entitled “All Flesh is Grass”, published in First Things magazine: https://www.firstthings.com/article/2019/03/all-flesh-is-grass
Thank you for that. All Flesh is Grass complements Dandelions very well, the one concerning God’s judgment on the wicked, the other, on the unstoppable progression of age. Both are in God’s hands.
Dear Cynthia,
Your poem had me watching the scenery unfold as if I was watching a time lapse movie. The images you created with words are magical. “Like many tiny suns,” and “they all were nodding…as if they were applauding,” are among my favorites. Dandelions are a deceptively complex little creation, are they not?
Thank you for this beauty!
Gigi
You are so welcome, Gigi — thank you much for your comment! It’s wonderful to know that you thought the images were “magical”!
Very lyrical and moving, Cynthia. The sentiment is one that many (or most) people will be able to share. The use of iambic trimeter with alternating feminine and masculine endings gives this a gently flowing feeling, with the tetrameter and pentameter lines adding extra emphasis at key points. We might also think of Job 14:2, “Who cometh forth like a flower, and is destroyed, and fleeth as a shadow, and never continueth in the same state.”
Thank you so much, Morrison. I am grateful that you enjoyed the meter of the poem enough to analyze it as you have. And yes, Job is such a poetically-written tragedy!
A pretty wonderful and beautifully lyrical poem, Cynthia – very impressive work indeed. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, James; your praise means a great deal to me.
This is a very special poem, Cynthia, which charmingly uses the humble dandelion as a metaphor for our mortality. What I find especially lovely about this poem is your choice of flower. Flowers in literature are a favorite subject and often weighted with symbolism, whether we are talking about Ophelia’s rosemary and pansies, Wordsworth’s daffodils, or Shakespeare’s “rose by any other name.” But you have chosen the humble daffodil, sometimes treasured, sometimes just an annoying weed. But in some ways the most human of flowers, for dandelions can be a solitary, occasional presence on the lawn or they can quickly become a sunny crowd… and all too soon just a memory. Just like people.
I am reminded of Ray Bradbury’s “Dandelion Wine” — a marvelous set of boyhood stories set in rural 1928 Illinois. Dandelions for him are a true symbol of summer freedom, but by being preserved as wine they allow for a kind of eternal summer: “Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.”
Poetry has that same ability to take us back into a different season, a different memory. Yours does so beautifully.
Thank you, Brian; see my reply below.
Thank you! And forgive my typo 5 or 6 lines in — obviously I know you chose the humble dandelion and not my erroneous “humble daffodil.” I guess I just had daffodils on the brain!
What a vivid poem. So much said, in a piece laced with metaphor and personification.
Thanks for the read, Cynthia.
Thank you, Paul, and you are welcome!
Thank you, Brian. Seasons have always fascinated me, and have been one of my major themes. That became clear to me as I started organizing my poems and ended up with my collection called “Notes on Time”. Watching seasons change and time flying by faster than a speeding dandelion puff seems so mysterious to me. As you note, flowers are significant, and the passing of perennials every year symbolizes the flight of time and the fleeting nature of life to me.
Thank you for the recommendation of “Dandelion Wine”. I do like Bradbury very much, but haven’t read that one yet. I will look forward to reading it.
This is a gem, Cynthia. Looking into the faces of my 2 newest grandkids and seeing in them their developing sense of wonder, along with recognition, I’m led to consider how far most of us get figuring out the world and our place in it (no matter how much or how little we seem to get done), and what it all means and leads to. The self-satisfaction of “I did it my way” may be sufficient for many, but not for all.
Thank you, Julian!
Lovely, lyrical and profound on many levels. I love the dandelion – it came here with my ancestors on the Mayflower.
Your poem is quite lovely Cynthia and almost makes me appreciate dandelions… but not quite! I confess that I dig them out when I see them.
I love your poem. Dandelions are especially beautiful along the country roads here.
What an intriguing form and what a wonderful subject. I love this shining image, “an unseen magic wand / Had turned green lawns to blinding blonde”. I believe there are many messages in nature and the changing of the seasons… messages of hope and eternity. Oh, the wonder of that unseen magic wand and the beauty and devastation it can conjure. Cynthia, you have enveloped me in your dandelion spell… and I’m all the better for it. Thank you!