There’s a dandelion on the roadside in Toronto.
It’s leaves a dishevelled mix of green and brown.
A dandelion scraggling ‘n’ limping along.

There’s a flower beside a concrete stump
on Bay Street, in Toronto.  Perpetually rebellin’
against spiked heels and blue serge suits.

The monetary march-past of 5 o’clock Bay Street
(deaf to the cries of this thing aging lion)
sneers: “Chicken-yellow flower…”

My leaves, my face… my skin… I feel like
my skin is being scraped off me.  There is
a flower in Toronto.  On the roadside

It takes jackhammers and brutish machines to rip
the concrete from the sidewalks in Toronto
to beautify the city of blue serge suits

But for this dandy lion, it takes but a seed,
a little acid rain, a whole lot of fight and a
Black desire to limp along and scraggle forward

There is a flower.

Lee Maracle

(Maracle, 1996)