When I see the dandelion
Reminds me of the weeding
In the garden my grandma
Full of native wisdom
from the sun dark-skinned
kneeling with her cane

Leaning on her cane
poking its end at the offending dandelion
wrinkled in the sun dark-skinned
in her childhood of farming and weeding
she gained so much wisdom
what she had gained, my grandma

I miss my grandma
and her wooden cane
from abuse she gained such wisdom
and her laugh delightful as a dandelion
her laughs did not need weeding
she was more than dark-skinned

in her time those dark-skinned
not like everyone’s grandma
obsessed with dandelion weeding
all summer leaning on her cane
I would make a wreath of dandelion
crown my head in her wisdom

now here i walk in wisdom
like her I walk dark-skinned
making medicine with the dandelion
not like my grandma
not yet in my hand, her cane
my hands know by heart the weeding

with my bare, brown hands I learn weeding
taking and leaving, weeding wisdom
use my fingers to point at each cane
I walk this world dark-skinned
how do I emulate my grandma
draw a tattoo of a dandelion

through life the weeding, in life run dark-skinned
with simple wisdom I am my grandma
one day I’ll have her cane wreathed in dandelion