Light the daffodils that strike me teary,
Spring. Get on with it. I resent your joy.
I won’t cupboard my winter clothes. Each spring
dress that dances down the sidewalk destroys
a mind with delight. Every song is wrong.
These fragrant blossoms and reappearing
birds aren’t evidence of the earth’s rebirth
but worse: they are earth’s forever birthing.
What can you hold when you’re always giving?
You Icarus me each first equinox.
Get on with it. I can’t prevent your joy,
your light. Your endless day is endless night.