Give Me Daffodils

Photo by David Jakab on

As scented roses make center stage,
daffodils cry out from deep under
frosty layers of white wintry snow!
It is the middle of February and
each hour sings of love unfolds.

Chick-a-Dees crowd filled dangling
feeders and are welcoming with song;
my south window smudged with
grandkid’s sweet sticky finger prints
become a splendid blessing to the day.

Bleak is the land lingering before me,
empty are the jagged limbs of trees
once filled with delights of life;
where lush emerald leaves fluttered
with filled nests of speckled blue eggs.

Now, the very last meal of the day
makes haste as the early sun sets
against a dull, dreary wintry sky;
yet grandkids dressed in polar suits
climb atop high mounds of icy snow.

Stay the night my dear little loves,
for spring is near and arms ache
to carried bouquets of fresh daffodils;
waiting for children’s cheery laughter
to float on mild breezes; to trees dressed

in all of spring’s lush glory!
For now I’ll warm chubby hands,
stir their hot creamy chocolate, chat
about their wonderful winter play of
forts and caves built atop the daffodils.

Not arrows from Cupid’s heart,
but something a great deal more
are my tender off-spring. Benefits
from the winter season of my life;
their visits a scent of lingering joy!

P. Wolf, poet & author of Jemi’s Noble Quest

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,

So are the children of one’s youth.”

Psalms 127:3-4

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