Ode to Oxalis

Oh Oxalis, how I missed you so!
When I lived back East, you did not grow.

You were considered exotic and people would pay a lot of money for you
Just to have you flail in their garden and then you'd die, boo hoo.

I wanted my son to experience picking and tasting your juices so sour
But trips to California is springtime were out of my power.

When I moved back home, my first spring was thrilling!
Me in bare feet, the yellow of your flowers, the mountains so green.

But now that I farm, I must say you are not my friend
I dig up your gross wormy roots, your acorn shaped seeds, so invasive! It just doesn't end.

So now sadly I know the truth and must re-catagorize your class -
You belong with the dreaded bindweed and that yucky Bermuda grass.