The Dandelion Mother (and the Woodwhite)

We ventured over the border into darkest Surrey today.  Here there bee dragonnes.  However, I comforted myself with the thought that these would be very upmarket dragons, cubs all in private schools, and breathing only carbon-neutral flames.

We found the Woodwhite butterfly - a tiny fairy creature - see The Captain's Log for pictures.  It is like a little piece of exquisite jewellery.   How did its Grand Creator, Jehovah of armies, do it?!

The blossom is wonderful this year - as are the dandelions.   And they seem an excuse for a poem.  When we were in the Italian Tyrol, many years ago, we saw (and Col photographed) some really large dandelion clocks.  They seemed more than ready to fly, there was plenty of wind about, but the kids seemed to be sticking to home. So I wondered if the mother dandelion somehow chose the right moment to release them and wrote:

THE DANDELION MOTHER 

She doesn't let her children fly
with any wind
she holds them in
white spikey babes
until
the wind she knows
the wind she wants
rushes past her
'Go, children, now'
she says
'and leave me to
my mid-life crisis.