Last night I stared hard
at the clear vase holding
two dozen pointy green
stalks like paintbrushes
tipped the color of canaries,
willing them to open.
If I ignored them, I thought,
one might shyly loosen
a lemony petal,
let it begin to fall
like a satin camisole strap,
or another might open
enough to reveal a bit
of sunny petticoat.
This morning,
when I turned on
the light, all 24 girls
stood tall, unfurled,
twirling their parasols,
beaming with the brightness
that can only mean spring.
Güd wrtr 
Love the imagery. Love thinking of daffodils as girls with parasols. Thank you!
Thank you, Gloria! Such fun, these “hosts of golden daffodils”!
This morning one of mine in the garden popped open and the rest will soon follow. So cheerful amid all the wet weather.