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.