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.