{"id":55484,"date":"2019-06-23T01:32:52","date_gmt":"2019-06-23T05:32:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=55484"},"modified":"2019-06-23T01:34:48","modified_gmt":"2019-06-23T05:34:48","slug":"55484","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2019\/06\/55484\/","title":{"rendered":"Puffs"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-55489 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/markus-spiske-1557739-unsplash-1-1-300x200.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"653\" height=\"435\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/markus-spiske-1557739-unsplash-1-1-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/markus-spiske-1557739-unsplash-1-1-768x512.jpg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/markus-spiske-1557739-unsplash-1-1-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/markus-spiske-1557739-unsplash-1-1-480x320.jpg 480w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 653px) 100vw, 653px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>As kids we would hold dandelions<\/p>\n<p>beneath each others chins<\/p>\n<p>somehow fascinated by learning<\/p>\n<p>who liked butter<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>dandelions going to seed were<\/p>\n<p>fun to pick, blow on<\/p>\n<p>scattering their fluffy countenance<\/p>\n<p>to the winds until some<\/p>\n<p>adult said to stop it because<\/p>\n<p>all they were were weeds<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>then dandelion wine was<\/p>\n<p>all the rage<\/p>\n<p>for a time<\/p>\n<p>neighborhood restaurants<\/p>\n<p>feature them<\/p>\n<p>in salads<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>holdout hippies and<\/p>\n<p>art fair merchants<\/p>\n<p>weave them into headgear<\/p>\n<p>elevating the dandelion to<\/p>\n<p>victors laurel status<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>times were simpler<\/p>\n<p>when we were younger<\/p>\n<p>though now the simplicity<\/p>\n<p>lies in seeing what<\/p>\n<p>has always been, letting go<\/p>\n<p>with a poof of breath<\/p>\n<p>on downy seed<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>As kids we would hold dandelions beneath each others chins somehow fascinated by learning who liked butter &nbsp; dandelions going to seed were fun to pick, blow on scattering their fluffy countenance to the winds until some adult said to stop it because all they&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":694,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-55484","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55484","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/694"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=55484"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55484\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":55503,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/55484\/revisions\/55503"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=55484"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=55484"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=55484"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}