The First Daffodil
In the Spring
memories blow like wind
through the corners of my soul
replacing the dark winter
which time has now beset
Playing its distant lute
change is thrust upon me
rebirthing what fall had rightly claimed
and buried in the past
Visions of dancing June bugs
they fervently surround me
mating my wonderment with joy
as summer waits untilled
The whirlwind dharma
that so haunts my dreams
left comatose and vacant
freeing me for what’s to come
—and what has always been
(Bryn Mawr College: March, 2023)
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