When the snow melts, the rogue daffodils
are first to spike from the brown ground.
They form a line of green at the edge
of the woods, waiting.
The sun shines on the shoots when it can.
It insists, I am in you.
Then, little suns of bright yellow
flowers open and unwither.
They shine full-bodied on the gray meadow
until the other flowers begin to grow.
Soon into the fullness of spring’s luster,
the yellow blooms that were all we had
curl and fall, gladly lost
in the now-pervasive glow.
Poem by Jenna Wysong Filbrun
Jenna Wysong Filbrun’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in publications such as Blue Heron Review, Deep Wild, The Dewdrop, Eco Theo Review, Wild Roof Journal, and others. Her first full length collection of poems, Away, will be available for presale in March 2023 with Finishing Line Press. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the author of one chapbook, The Unsaid Words (Finishing Line Press, 2020). She lives in Indiana with her husband, Mike, and their dogs, Oliver and Lewis. Find her online at www.jennawysongfilbrun.wixsite.com/poetry or @Jenna_W_Filbrun.