Not Quite Spring

Walking the dog, I notice a small stand of daffodils that have bloomed in late February. The first of their kind. There have been many gloomy and cold mornings this winter, and the small yellow trumpets seem to be heralding brighter days ahead. The birds have picked up their activities too on this particular morning. So much chatter, so much flying to and fro collecting odd bits and bobs for their nests. It brings a ray of hope and some joy to an otherwise ordinary day.

It made me want to share this poem about the dandelion (which hasn’t shown its sleepy head yet) that will be published in my forthcoming book, True Blue:

Taraxacum Officinale (“Common Dandelion”)

Dandelion, there is nothing
common about you.

Yellowest of yellow
tinged orange, like yolks.
A shorn lawn
your canvas
you paint tiny suns
across the green grass sky.

Bees rely on you
children adore you
many a nose yellowed
because of your sweet scent.

Magician
you disappear
reappear transformed
puffball, delicate
clock of seeds
holder of wishes
gone in a gust
or the sigh of breath.