Tonight while walking I saw
a daffodil sprung alone
along a spar of rotted wood
as though washed there
on tides of waving grass
Between chain-link fence
And the wall it faced
Away from me
Leaned into concrete and braced
Against it’s own shadow.
Rooted in dusk.
Yellow petals paled at edges
as if bled out around it
Onto pools of dark and floodlight
I wanted so badly
For either of us to reach
Back through the dappled gloom,
Bloomed despite our respective cages,
To grant the other a little color-
Why should a daffodil be different
Than anyone else?
I pass a small rectangle of grass, enclosed by a chain-link fence, on my way to school.
It was a little after 7 pm, early April, and I noticed a lone daffodil growing in the middle of the grass. It caught my attention, not just because it had blossomed before even the dandelions, but because rather than leaning towards the east or some other area of sunlight it was turned toward the thirty foot concrete wall and growing within the shadow of a guard tower. I thought ” I understand” and I watched that daffodil every evening on my way to school as it’s petals began to fall off and it became almost indistinguishable from the weeds springing up around it. I guess I understand that too.