Many ask “can one person make a difference?”
I do not know the answer, so I ask the humble dandelion.
After devastation, a weed does not set out to heal a forest.
How would its seed even germinate under such pressure?
The dandelion only knows how to anchor its root and hold soil,
to spread its rosette over bare ground,
sheltering from sun and wind, to drink in
whatever moisture it finds, breathing it back
into the cloudless sky, and die back
in its time, reinvesting the carbon it collected to the soil.
Eventually the harsh earth becomes tolerable
to larger shrubs
or perhaps a tiny vole.
Each brings its unique gifts
though they may not live to see their seeds grow.
Soon a moonscape becomes an earthscape:
towering conifers wash the whole forest in shade.
The air is mild, wet, and fragrant with life:
mosses, ferns, insects, fallen logs, a wealth of possibilities.
Now, do you think the tallest sequoia looks down
on the forest canopy and proclaims
“look at what I have made!”
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