Bravely and with marshmallow faces
daffodils thrust through brown leaves
confused by the applause of the wind
with a boldness that only a newcomer would have.
Innocent of their subordinate role
in Nature's ambivalent plunge forward in time
we can pretend this immature spring
is just an anomaly in proportion.
Daffodils entered stage left before their cue
with that eagerness of innocence
and that silliness of a daffy down dilly.
Above with stage make-up.
(Yes, this should have been posted on my other blog...my bad.)
(Yes, this should have been posted on my other blog...my bad.)