A gray, gray day in January
And skin and bones feel the chill.
Watch the pedestrians scurry
From place to place,
Holding their coats tight to themselves
As the cold winds
Try to rip them from their grasp;
But in my mind's eye
I call forth the daffodils
Sleeping just beneath the surface
Of the frozen ground.
As the leaves of seasons past
Scuttle o'er the brown grass
I see their yellow trumpets
Waving jauntily on spring breezes.
It won't be long--
Just a few weeks more
And my beloved jonquils
Will warm my eyes
Just as the promise of spring
Warms my soul.