Climate, Strange
Can you remember when the daffodils
Meant spring was on the way? Each yellow drift
Beside the bank or just beneath the hill’s
Slope gave the eye and soul a gold bright lift.
That doesn’t happen now. We remember
How promise of revival made us new
Inside. This time they came in December.
That can’t be right. No. Something is askew
When Christmas trees and red and tinselled lights
Are arrogated by the blossoms meant
To herald resurrection. They are blights
Somehow, or at least trumpets of dissent.
..They’re out of joint with the season.
,,,,They seem a petaled noise of treason.
Beautiful, made me cry!
I just now saw your comment. Sorry.