when I look out across the yard
at yellow dots, then
flip up the phone so
it recognizes my face, then
search for dandelion honey
or tea or jelly or a dozen
other uses of useless weeds

when I stoop and shuffle
across the yard, picking
am i reconnecting
to ancestral ways, of
what you had you grew,
or is it just some hippy dream
in between snaps

when I think of mamaw,
how she’d never do this,
a days work for three jars
of sugared water when you
could just walk to the store
and get it sweeter
for just a dollar or two

child, you need to use your head