When the snow dies covered by the sun
the daffodils rejoice.
Or do they?
Actually,
the daffodils don’t care,
the snow never lived,
and no one has seen the word,
‘rejoice,’
outside of a hymnal
since about 1860.
So let’s get real
shall we?
Today,
snow is something shovelled
or skied,
the sun has been polarized
for your convenience
and daffodils
come from a rack
at Trader Joes
where I rejoice
if I can get out of there
for under a hundred bucks,
and by that I mean in dollars,
not deer.