Days of daffodils

Bathed in the indolent sun of wintry morn,

Brushed by the dewy breeze and tree laments

Stroll shady forest trails no longer worn

By furry snow and foliage descents.

The stain-glass canopies burnish with light

The hidden confessional of my soul,

Efflorescing with the will to excite,

To captivate, inspire and console.

The days of daffodils are drawing close

With the songs of cyclamens and pollen,

In the awaking woods a new life glows

Where the tyranny of cold has fallen.

Caliginous brumes fringe the north skyline

In a desperate rout for sheltered skies,

The pungent taste of southern winds and brine

Herald despotism’s final demise.