Days of daffodils
Bathed in the indolent sun of wintry morn,
Brushed by the dewy breeze and tree laments
Stroll shady forest trails no longer worn
By furry snow and foliage descents.
The stain-glass canopies burnish with light
The hidden confessional of my soul,
Efflorescing with the will to excite,
To captivate, inspire and console.
The days of daffodils are drawing close
With the songs of cyclamens and pollen,
In the awaking woods a new life glows
Where the tyranny of cold has fallen.
Caliginous brumes fringe the north skyline
In a desperate rout for sheltered skies,
The pungent taste of southern winds and brine
Herald despotism's final demise.