A Daisy Tale

*** A DAISY TALE *** A single, wild, tiny daisy Less than a thumbnail in size, swaying side to side In the slight, burning whiffs of a summer’s breeze, Growing out from next to the house, From the corner where the front and side gray, stone walls of the house meet. She climbs her way on out fron beneath a thick, brambly Weed-Bush that is quite hell-bent on strangling Any beauty growing in its proximity, and between Whose many snappy twigs, the wild daisy had grown, sprouting Her skinny stem up from the gravelly dirt, to rise, threading Through the Weed Bush’s many twig limbs, until she cleared Out above it, to be now taller than the house’s front stoop, onto Which it takes three steps to stand. And, bobbing close to Which she now gloried — near no others of her kind — alone — With only five leaves sticking out from her stem And showing off her golden center, smaller Than the nail of a newborn baby’s pinky finger; leaves and flower angled To face the sun: their light…her direction, in that moment, Noon-centered overhead in the cerelean blue, July sky. Tiny, stalwart Wild daisy, without fragrance (except perhaps to bees); With her several minute white petals, sized Like the absolute tips of toothpicks. The eptome of dainty. Delicate, delightful. Perfect for a child’s braided Daisy chain, if only there were more there of her; Or a lovely pick for a dining table bouquet centerpiece If only she were very, very much larger…Still, She’d reached her fated height, standing proudly straight, Just beyond the shadows laying across the yard, Showing the peaks of some nearby giant pines, Who always joined with her to hum Mother Nature’s dusk lullabies While the listening heavens smiled. —————————————————————————————————————————————————————- This is a Narrative poem form, (with the daisy possibly being a metaphor for someone you know?) (c) sally young eslinger 6/19/2023 Thanks be to God