Near a rotted old stump
Which the spring water washes
An old helmet rusts, gaunt,
And upon it, audacious,
Like a bold mountaineer
Climbs a wormlet.
Nearby A small bird for a nest
Scans the beach with its eye.
The last ice-splinters melt
And are turned into springs.
But what flower in the grass
To the old helmet clings?
From beneath its steel rim
Peers a frail dandelion.
Stroke its head with your hand –
It’s alive – undying...
Elliott Erwitt (b. 1928), 'Mother and Child', NY, 1953, Black and white photograph, 16" x 23"
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