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.
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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
Copyright ©
Sally Eslinger
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