A few daffodils are blooming here today. Down below, elevation-wise, there are many in full glory. I only dug up a few of mine from the old place. Perhaps someday I’ll have that kind of garden again.
along the driveway, in the woods
yellow daffodils here and there
a few are gifts left by the folks
who lived here before, and who died
days apart after years of hope
the deer wouldn’t eat their plantings
I only know them by what escaped
the clearing out of their household
I left a bed of daffodils
to come here, this rocky hillside.
each spring it filled my life for weeks
forty years of spring returning
a shovelful of those bloom now
with the hopes of another’s past
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