A Riff On David Wood's Daffodils - Poem by David McLansky
Daffodils bob on the hill,
The wind maintains its’ winter chill,
It turns their yellow heads to brown
And bends them early to the ground;
The tulips with a stronger will
Replace the drooping daffodils,
With florid heads they burst their buds
While daffodils lay in the mud;
Each flower reigns within its time
And from its glory then declines
And I a man of weathered reason
Stoop knowing I live out of season.
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