Of Daffodils & Rain
'For spring had entered the capital
Walking on gigantic feet.
The smell of witch hazel indoors
Changed to narcissus in the street.'
~John Ashbery (b.1927) , U.S. poet, critic.
- from 'It Was Raining in the Capital.'
~ ~ ~
I will not be your daffodil.
I haven’t the strength to be that fragile
nor the predilection to be that obvious.
I refuse to bloom unless I can
find a way to do so
without the unnecessary
Spring can be a horrid season
and I’ve no inclination
to be its symbol.
I will not lay in wait all winter
only to make a spectacle
of myself every year when
the season changes.
(It’s a ridiculous way to live.)
It’s Spring again, baby –
but no matter how many times
it comes to us, I will never be
if you let me…
I will be your rain.