Showing posts with label daffodils. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daffodils. Show all posts

Monday, April 17, 2023

Ode to the Daffodil

 

On Saturday, when we dropped something off at the house my son is living at temporarily
a golden profusion of frills stole my flower-hungry gaze!
I couldn't resist gathering a few beauties to bring home
to bury my face into again and again...
Another one of the guys also living in the same house with our son
 is currently renovating our main-floor washroom!


I confessed to him that the flowers on my kitchen table were 'borrowed'
from his property and he said, 'yeah, Matt told me, and I honestly hadn't
even noticed they were blooming!!" 😂😅😇


Dear daffodil, each spring you thrill us with your sanguine pose
Lovely trailblazer to a pageantry of blooms unfurled
You cheer earth’s stiff, bare bones stripped of last shreds of winter clothes
Spilling splashes of sunshine to a battered, threadbare world

Dear daffodil, who can resist your olden, golden charms
As you return to tended plots or yards from 'gards' of yore
Trustworthy, friendly forerunners welcomed with open arms
By petal-hungry passengers on winter run ashore

Dear daffodil, robust yet fine, apple of April’s eye
Your ruffled elegance graces hall tables and fence rows
Your frills fill flower-happy hearts with worship’s sweetest sigh
And hymns roused from a well-spring only Heaven fully knows

Dear daffodil, so worth the wait/wade through winter’s wild rampage
So worth the while it takes until its chilling tides subside
To unveil what we always knew would soon take center stage
Gaggles of giggling daffodils strolling the countryside

© Janet Martin











Wednesday, April 26, 2017

The Daffodils Are Blooming...



In blogland I've seen daffodils blooming for quite a while; at last they dot our Ontario landscape too!




The daffodils are blooming, and
Their golden lanterns glow
Like beacons on a bashful land
That long was white with snow

The daffodils are smiling fair
Upon forgotten green
And we find ourselves smiling where
Straight somber lips had been

The daffodils are nodding and
Applauding storm’s farewell
Nature bestows a garden grand
To hungry hill and dell

The daffodils are blooming, oh,
Like Mozart's best, they sing
And praise the One from whence they flow
In melodies of spring

© Janet Martin



Thursday, April 30, 2015

Cheery, Deary Daffodil



 They are beginning to bloom at last. 
I've been keeping my eye on a fence-line where someone planted these beaming beauties for no other reason but for others to enjoy! And we do. 
Thank-you, thoughtful gardener:)

Cheery, deary daffodil
Splashing laughter to the rill
Let your gleaming cauldron spill
Where we waited long
Through the bold and bitter cold
Through snow-white on buried gold
Through the blue of getting old
For your beaming throng

Sunny, honey-happy bloom
Spring is such a lovely room
As you lavish winter’s tomb
With your filigree
Yellow fellow rollicking
Where zephyr is frolicking
And the pauper is a king
Here among your spree

Pretty, flirty flower-bell
Bobbing in the wooded dell
Grinning, giddy like a girl
With a brand-new dress
Jolly, jaunty petal-frill
How we love you, daffodil
As you wander up the hill
Spilling happiness

© Janet Martin

Have you seen Monica's gorgeous photos of thousands of daffodils?

Saturday, April 19, 2014

When Springtime Spills in Daffodils...



 I took a picture of this dell on my walk the other night...it is waiting for spring to spill in daffodils and green, and lilacs and forget-me-not. These trees, like most around here are ready to begin healing after a grueling winter that just does not want to quit.

When springtime spills in daffodils
And tattered dells don robes of green
…and babbling brooks wear blue-sky sheen
…and apple trees flaunt blossom frills
Then little lads kick off their shoes
And earth is glad in rainbow hues
When springtime spills in daffodils
 Gold kiss to Mother Nature’s muse

Then springtime jots forget-me-not
Where now the copse is dull and bare
Without wild flowers in her hair
Or lilacs in her wooded lot
Where daydreams waken as we lie
Half-sleeping ‘neath an azure sky
Then springtime jots forget-me-not
Like ellipses scattered awry

When springtime laughs on garden paths
And tickles dust between bare toes
And splashes freckles on Fred’s nose
Winking where winter poured its wrath
And ice-white barrenness had been
When the whole world is young and green
And springtime laughs on garden paths
Then everyone is seventeen

© Janet Martin