The daffodils bloomed early

You might say the tornadoed trees
unslept them
Everything was odd,
as was normal now, which is 2023
So they poked their heads out
sniffed the air and bloomed
They burrowed out like always
snouts sheathed in spathes
Some had more than one head,
sun-seeking goldenscopes
enlivening the water-logged yard
No one asks to be an omen
Affodyle, Mary’s star, Lent lily,
Jonquil, narcissus, daffy-down-dilly!
When they withered I snipped
their heads off
This is the crown, these are the tepals
We soaked them overnight
We warmed up the water
We put some white clothes in
our canary-colored
sadness soup
and stirred
and waited
and now my child wears a daffodil shirt
I whisper to his sleeping form:
There are things that once were
which we don’t even know to miss

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This poem also appears in the October 2023 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 88, No.10, page 8). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.