THE COMMONER

THE COMMONER

There are different varieties of me

In the azuline light, I swirl and twirl

And sometimes become dim.

Some favour bellis perrenis version of me

In the spring

Some  sophists are partial  to prunnela vulgaris

Not  the folks; vacuous and dripping in bulgaris

My favourite form of myself is sheep’s sorrel

My buds emerge from upright stems

Red tinted and warier spirited!

My tender leaves garnish the salads

I even curdle the fresh milk

My temperament is never mercurial

Folks call me stoic

Many ailments I cure

Though zizania is an acquired taste for the elegant folks

But feeds the poor.

Yet I am a commoner: I am the weed

And I grow wild and unruly.

By nature, I am weeded out

To give way to plants tame and sweet.

There is also human species of me

The un-showy ones or the wild ones.

Other human beings  desire to weed them out

To create space for humans; faux-sweet or tame.