THE COMMONER

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 weeds
And I grow wild and unruly.
By nature, I am weeded out
To give way to planets tame and sweet.

There are 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.