Daffodil - a poem for spring

Daffodil is going out.

Brazen in her determination

to flout the February fashion

for dull browns and greys,

she emerges in a honey haze -

a surge of strumpet yellow.

Tall, proud and slender,

she is turning heads,

dressed to the nines in her summer dress

even though there’s a chill in the air,

even though, they say,

she will catch her death.

Our Daffodil has layers and hidden depths.

Devil-may-care, she flaunts herself,

shrugging off their warnings like

a winter coat,

tossing January’s echo

like a dried paper scarf around her neck.

She’ll deal with the frosty looks tomorrow.

But, for now, she’s going dancing and

nothing will stop her.