Observation on My Daffodil
I once staked a bet on a daffodil
as to when it would open.
Everyday I sat and watched
as others grew and opened up
their yellow hearts, while mine
stayed closed for days after
their sunny debuts. It seemed
my flower was stubborn, retarded
beside these nodding socialites.
I thought mine would never open to the world,
that it would be too late for Spring.
It took some time and patience,
this constant tending
to the slender stem. Would I ever
see it smiling at the sun?
It had to happen, and it did.
As other flowers faded, died, my trumpet blared
its fanfare of triumphal entry in golden glory
joining the dancing throng of the newly wakened
whose leaves waved in joy at its late arrival.