Heralds of change
A splash of cold as
sharp spring rain is
falling,
Nature wakes.
Stout stems and long
leaves
moving in harsh spring
wind,
New season comes.
Look at these flowers
glowing in pale sunshine,
Winter creeps away.
Bright trumpets
pointing
through spring to
summer glory,
The world is turning.
Wild daffodils are my favourites, so dainty and yet so hardy in the cold days of February and March.
This poem has rather more capital letters and punctuation than I usually use, but it's spring, so why not!
www.francescakay.co.uk
www.francescakay.co.uk
A lovely poem, daffodils, like the moon, never tire of having poems written about them do they? The real wild ones always seem to me like candle flames compared to the neon strip lights of the cultivars - though I like many of them too.
ReplyDeleteThanks for visiting my smaller blog, and indirectly for Dracula and Jonathan, who are a source of much delight!
I am so glad you like Dracula!
ReplyDeleteAnd I do think that every poet should write a daffodil poem, it just seems right somehow!