Disrespectful Daffs
By Deborah Holt Williams
I follow my temperature charts to a “T,”
but my daffodils think they know better than me.
“Wait!” I implore them. “The weather’s too cold!”
They rudely ignore me. So reckless. So bold.
They rise in defiance! Each bright yellow bloom
Seems to sneer, “We’ll be dancing one day ’round your tomb!”
Line in the Sand
By Jeanne Souldern
Beginnings have edges and ledges, places to step onto as if they are gliding escalators. There is a demarcation that divides the past from this moment, a starting point, which you cross, sometimes by choice and sometimes by circumstances. But there is always a line, real or imagined.
Songs and Stardust
By Melissa Sidelinger
You are made of stardust, my dear
Music, magic, stories, and songs,
Images tattooed in ink
Notes written on a page.
There are galaxies hidden
In the blue of your eyes
And constellations of freckles
Etched across your skin.
You are made of stardust, my dear
It courses through your veins
Music flows from your hands
Your fingers drumming out the beat.
Let me get lost in the universe
Of the songs within your soul
So I might explore the very edges
Of your innermost world.