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The dandelion is sly and slick – it’s an ignoble foe;
it lurks, pretending it’s a bud, then lets its seed-head blow
the moment that you’ve turned your back.  You know the fight is over
when reckoning up the seeds it’s spread, the pocket Casanova.
The earth may cool, the climate warm, and war is always looming;
but in the worst scenario a dandelion is blooming.