Gnarled fingers reaching up into sunlit skies, feeling for stars.
Do Daffodils smile? Poets say they do. Walking on the sidewalk yesterday I came across these. I stopped and watched them rocking to and fro in the wind. I detected an expression of glee in their yellow faces, and then I saw it – they were smiling.
Poets often speak of eternity within us. I find this hard to grasp. Perhaps I’m too literal and that’s fatal when it comes to poetry. But early this morning I was walking my little dog and experienced a sudden and heightened awareness of the new day. I found myself pondering on this new day’s connection to that long chain of days that have eternally flowed like waves to the shoreline, and at that moment, felt a fleeting sense of the eternal.