Daffodils Make Me Giddy

environment, global warming, hope, poetry, The natural world 1 Minute
Photo by Ben Young on Pexels.com

Daffodils make me giddy–
Each a sunlit harbinger
Stretching upward, so erect,
So daffily hopeful.

Oblivious to the calendar,
They Spring to the surface
While winds whip past and
The page has not yet
flipped.

What natural selections
Paired that glorious
Mellow yellow with its
Rich green pedestal…

And etched
This floral bowl surrounded by
Leaves imbued with energy for their
Subsequent blooms?

In a few weeks’ time, they’ll bow, I know,
One after another,
In seeming obeisance, toward the craggy earth
Whose soil offers cyclic sustenance.

I’ve lots of concerns about
The Anthropocene ravages
on the givens
I’ve loved since my youth

But the gold sentry line
Along my fence is fuller
Now than it was last year,
Providing perennial promise
For the years ahead.

–Annie

Published by annieasksyou

I've been a nonfiction writer for many years, exploring diverse topics that pique my curiosity, as noted in my first blog posting (Greetings!). I'm seeking dialogue with others committed to joining me in this exploration, sharing my conviction that different views can be exchanged in a respectful, civil discourse where we can learn from one another and be agreeable, even when we disagree. These postings depend for their enrichment on your participation: your ideas, insights, knowledge, opinions, and personal stories.

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19 thoughts on “Daffodils Make Me Giddy”

  5. How wonderful, an ode to this bold flower,
    That symbolizes hope, evokes life’s power.
    If they inspired these optimistic verses,
    They’re sentries tall, indeed, against life’s curses.
    (But green-gold pairing, far from God’s decision,
    Evolved to please bugs’ pollen-seeking vision.)
    Let life return to being as sweet as taffy;
    And until then, may all your dils be daffy.

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    1. Delighted to have you join me! I hope you won’t be disappointed that much of my blogging involves my tiny effort to make sure the US, flawed though we are, doesn’t go off the rails and deeply into the muck and mire.

      But I do love wordplay and poetry and must take breaks from the soapbox here and there…And some of my soap takes the form of acrostics.

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