By Len A.Hynds

The rising sun, smiles on all today,
My daffodils turn and begin to play,
blowing their trumpets so silent and clear,
so that all the fairy folk can hear.


Tossing their heads in the gentle breeze,
spreading their arms with carefree ease.
Wiggling their toes, beneath the ground,
avoiding those stones which always are found.

Telling other flowers, ‘It’s not so bad,
now spring is here, you should be glad.”
Their flash of yellow covers the earth,
giving crocus, narcissus such joy and mirth.

Trumpeting, “You should feel quite glad and gay,
this dawning of a new spring day.”