Too early daffodils
by Laurel Smith
Dark
morning, fierce wind, then
stern
winter gives way to a generous sun,
cold
air fresh, melted
puddles
in the fields. It’s the same day
but
a changed season, a shift marked by small
green shoots next to the house:
eager
daffodils with no intention
to
temper their exuberance, to mimic our
cautious anticipation of spring.
It
will freeze again, maybe snow
as
golden blooms open—open without regret,
their splendor, as usual, on time.