I don’t remember a time when the daffodils have bloomed this early, yet they are are blooming now on Orcas.
In honor of my favorite season, here’s a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.
is when the muddy yard turns from the snap of winter
Green fingers push through, reaching with fat thumbs
of promised golden blossom.
How does the green know?
Like actors waiting in the wing for the cue
of sunlight cast on mud
the volume of birdsong crescendo
the fingers open
cups to hold
the first sleepy bees of the year.
REMINDERS about WEEKLY POEMS: If you decide to use my poem somewhere, please let me know, credit the author, and link it back to my website. Thank you!