Daffodils
As I sat nestled in the brush,
could I knowingly cast doubt,
no other creature was in a rush,
only humanity wanted out,
poisoned rivers with toxic landfills,
decorated with dying daffodils.
All that was garnered through toil,
those long pressuring years,
renewed like crops within soil,
nourished with wantoned tears,
bury me deep under foot and hills,
to rise with blooming daffodils.
Living on luck and a little chance,
darkness transcends to light,
planted tulips a budding romance,
sun set reaching out of sight,
when winter winds bring those chills,
return beneath with the daffodils.
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