Daffodils

 

Artwork: Fernand Leger, Two Women Holding Flowers, 1954

The first in a set of poems entitled Lovers’ Quarantine

In ‘Lovers’ Quarantine’ I explore different responses to quarantine. Here, the natural periodic growth of daffodils is mirrored in the ‘burrowing’ silent accumulation of romantic thought between separated lovers.

by Fred Baxter

 

There are daffodils

Growing from your windowsill,

Bursting through its placid soil

After months of gritty toil;

Creakily they burrow,

Stretching out behind the furrows

Of the windowpane.

And when ice froze breath mid-air to feign

Winter, I knew still they

Rummaged, for they worked their way

Soundlessly, turning over the earth

As they went. Yawning off their frosty birth

And turning to look, I saw a world

Wrapped up in silk and furled

Around my feet; yellowing

It sent stars uprooting,

A thousand blazings

In its sinewy earth’s lacing.

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