Dandy Lion

by Christine Adams Beckett

For Hannah

is how you pronounced
an unwanted plant,
shot through the violet vinca like
a burst of yellow confetti,

its own high-styled
rebel, a wild flower
like you: tenacious,
resilient, hearty,

landed here, on the
prevailing winds,
a seed carried
on a child’s breath,

without plan, or
preconceived notions
on how it was supposed
to be, or become,

a culinary staple, a
lion’s tooth, roaring her
own benevolent yawp
over a Samaritan world.