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Chant of the Daffodils

09 April, 2019: Chant of the Daffodils



by Monica Kaiser
At the foot of the linseed tree
I see a cluster of five daffodils
toe themselves out of the ground
to stand on their own horizon;
unopened buds, solemn and emerald green,
point at the sky, prayer hands surrendering.
On day two, the daffodils hunch over,
the weight of the world is upon them,
as is an overnight snow
that crowns them white.
Stooped necks watch cars instead of clouds,
people instead of branches,
landscape instead of vanishing prayers.
Their hands become lips
and open on a popcorn yawn that stretches like a paw—
rabbit, dog, or cat—vulnerable.
On day three, the daffodils open
crepe paper petals, mouths of clarified ghee, sing,
find their purpose. Each tongue a poke of ruffled sun-rays,
the color of a harvest moon, chants a hello, an amen,
a joyous alleluia, even as they begin to die,
their unheard words wilt on lips.
Some people are brightest just before death,
flowering only to kiss us goodbye.

“Chant of the Daffodils” by Monica Kaiser. Copyright Monica Kaiser, 2018. Used by permission of the author.

Monica Kaiser is a graduate assistant at Kent State University and is in her second year of pursuing a Northeast Ohio Master of Fine Arts creative writing degree. She is the author of Still Sifting and is passionate about the environment, ecopoetics, conflict management and how these genres intersect. She lives with her husband, son, two rabbits and father near her childhood home in Akron, Ohio.


Write about one of the snow days or extremely cold days this past January.

Tammy L Currier
Winter's warlock

His grim visage whirls wildly above, taunting trees and taut power lines

his robe sweeps the night sky, casting whorls of fiercely spreading snow and errant roof tiles

his breath writes crystal stories on windowpanes, proving all the world’s a stage and more

Soon, tree branches concede and fall, power lines snap and go slack

curblines give up the ghost, car tires drift up

windows shudder and shake, minor foes to his fury
4/11/2019 12:33:26 AM

Too cold to work
So we stayed home
Channel 8 showed
20 below with the wind chill
So I went swimming in an indoor heated pool

Two days without work
Two days to reflect, recharge
Stay up late, sleep in
4/10/2019 9:57:27 PM

N. K. Hasen
One weekend the snow piled on high in January.
Snowflakes were falling at dizzying speeds
Collecting themselves in tight pack family on the ground.
Until Sunday sun shone shining it all stopped.
I stepped outside bundle head to toe
Only to miss a step trudging through snow almost knee deep
To get to where my car was parked
But not sure where since it was covered with mounds of snow
I find my car by a little color showing
Grab the brush and inch by inch
Brush snow away to reveal my hidden ride
Then dig around my buried treasure
So, tires can find some traction
To leave its snowed in parking spot
So, snow removal could clear the lot
4/9/2019 7:42:02 PM

January's cold
In Minnesoda compares
Only with April's
4/9/2019 10:28:12 AM

READ + WRITE: 30 Days of Poetry is a collaboration between Cuyahoga County Public Library and poet Diane Kendig. Our thanks go to Diane and the poets of Northeast Ohio who allowed us to share their poetry.