Ode to the Dandelion



Ode to the Dandelion

Copyright 2016 Mollie Pearce Mckibbon

O, why do we so malign
the humble dandelion?
And why do we still persist
to cross it off our list
of the plants we much admire
and toss it in the fire?
Although it’s not a native,
worth is qualitative.
Had our ancestors foreseen
that we would so demean
and dismiss its varied use,
they’d think us quite obtuse.
The dandelion is fine
as a delicious wine
or tossed into a salad
as a green it’s valid.
When vitamins are needed,
keep your lawn unweeded
for the friendly flower
that pops up by the hour
answers many woes;
much more than you’d suppose.
So puff that dandelion!
Send those seeds a-flyin’!
Bless all those smart forbearers
that brought the gold tassels
from Europe’s homes and castles
to medicate their ills,
ward off many aches and chills,
supplement their diets,
keep their digestions quiet,
dye their bows and laces,
and decorate their places.
The weed we most despise
is a blessing in disguise.

First Recital

We have been to a number of our granddaughter’s ballet recitals and we always enjoy them.  The youngest dancers are adorable and really tug at the audience’s heartstrings.

First Recital

Duckling ballerina









Bewildered yellow ducklings

toddling in a row,

are staying close together

not sure where to go.

Teacher stands on tiptoes

watched by widened eyes

as obediently they follow

in their duck disguise.

Bobbing and turning,

arms held  ballet style,

they trail after their instructor

close in single file.

One has stopped to stare

beyond the spotlight sun.

Mom and dad are spellbound,

will their ducking run?

But  it’s time to curtsey;

it’s time to take their bow,

shaking tulled tail feathers

at the audience now.

One behind the other

they skip out of sight,

blowing tiny kisses

to the audience’s delight.

An Ode to a Lawn

Lawn Au Naturel

©2012 Mollie Pearce McKibbon


Dandelion salad, dandelion wine,

Don’t you wish your lawn was mine?

Dandelion fuzz balls standing tall,

How very sad that you have none at all.

Dandelion wishes, dandelion schemes,

Buttercup kisses, dandelion dreams.

Please, keep your roses, I’m beguiled

By wild flower bouquets picked by a child.

Spraying and digging may seem wise but

Dandelions are just sunshine in disguise.

From Raindrops to Roses


From Raindrops to Roses

© 2014 Mollie Pearce McKibbon


From raindrops to roses,

That’s how nature grows, 

So have no impatience

And don’t be morose.

A garden needs planning,

Good soil, tender care.

Raindrops and sunlight 

Will all help prepare

The loveliest surprises, 

The sweetest bouquet

And soon fragrant roses

Are then on their way.

If you prick your finger

To capture a rose,

It isn’t a nuisance

As you might suppose.

Things that have value,

Those we most desire

Can only be gained 

By braving the fire.

Unfolding in beauty

Before your own eyes,

God’s greatest gifts

Often come in disguise.


Springtime Poetry

Hopefully Spring is just around the (brrrr) corner. Here are two poems I wrote for spring.


Line Dancing

©2014 Mollie Pearce McKibbon 


My clothesline is doing the salsa today –

It took the blue denims to get underway.

My flannelette nightie is starting to swing,

While the red plaid pajamas perform highland flings.

The white percale sheets with their corners so neat

Are twirling and swirling, a marvelous feat!

And Granny’s old housecoat twists in the breeze

With Junior’s bermudas and daughter’s bright T’s.

You’ll never see a fandango so fine

As my laundry is dancing all over the line.



Spring Song

©2012 Mollie Pearce McKibbon


Flowers for a bouquet,

Tadpoles in a jar,

Rocks inside our pockets

So we know where they are.

We skipped across the meadow,

Splashed across the pond,

Climbed up all the hillsides

To see the farms beyond.

Cattails are aplenty,

Pussy willows too,

Busy bees are buzzing,

Now what’s left for us to do?

More Poetry for Fall

Ode to A Grey November  © Mollie Pearce McKibbon 2013

The golden fires of Autumn

Are just past memories;

October’s glory washed away

By grey November’s breeze.

The tired sun, wan and pale,

Barely shows its face

Until the soft white winter quilt

Is gently tucked in place.

The grass and trees need their rest;

The flower bulbs must sleep.

All God’s creatures tiptoe round

Or slumber on in peace.

Their clock is set for Springtime

When all will stretch and sigh

And, renewed, the sun will smile

Up in a clear blue sky.

So don’t regret November days

As they creep slowly by.

They are only preparation for

Our Creator’s lullaby.

Yesterday’s Sunshine

th-3Yesterday’s Sunshine ©Mollie Pearce McKibbon

Have you ever gazed

At the clouds sailing by

On a warm summer’s day

When the breeze is a sigh?

The world seems so green

And the grass smells sweet,

It is soft on your back

Though it tickles your cheek.

The sun melts your skin

Like butter in the pan

And cloud-shadows passing

Make a cooling fan.

On days honey bees

Are so lazily playing,

The boughs of a willow

Are not even swaying.

Life seems a dream,

Forever its scope;

Times spent in wonder

Bring visions of hope.

Bank all these moments

In your vault labelled “Joys”

So you can reclaim them

And quiet the noise

That worries and struggle

Bring into each day.

Let yesterday’s sunshine

Simply fade it away.

Two Summer Poems

sheer curtain blowing


Here are two poems that I wrote for summer.  I know that the season is on its last legs but we need to pause and appreciate all its beauties until the last moment.


Summer Breeze

© Mollie Pearce McKibbon


Summer breeze is a dancer

of exquisite grace.

Her skirts billow on the window sill,

twirling to a waltz,

lifting and swirling to an unheard score,

performing shadow ballet

across a sunlit floor.




© Mollie Pearce McKibbon


And the sun comes


through the trees –

a blessing of warmth

upon grass and leaf,

curling up dripping boughs,

lifting insects

from their secret purposes,

calling forth creepers

brooding beneath stones,

inspiring humble croakers

to choruses and arias

after the rain.

Autumn’s End

Autumn Joy: A collage by Mollie Pearce McKibbon

Autumn’s End

by Mollie Pearce McKibbon  October 2012

The golden gowns of Autumn

Are tarnished now and shed

By Octobers scathing winds;

In tatters they are spread.

Scarlet robes vainglorious

Lie trampled underfoot

As bonfires bright burn up the night

Turning all to ash and soot.

The burnished moon of harvest

Is shrunken small and wan,

And all of summer’s singers

Have flown their nests and gone.