The daffodils had the best of intentions...
...but the weather had other ideas.
The red winged blackbirds are not pleased.
I'm not pleased either. The seedlings on the windowsil look annoyed as well.
Danny has selected a poem to tell you about. He read it aloud, did an illustration, and a synopsis longer than the poem. The poem is by Peter Blue Cloud.
Now day and night sit balanced.
From a silence that seemed forever,
the first booming crash of break-up
thunders from the river. Smiling,
an elder oils the handle of a hoe
and listens for that great, warm wind.
Creation is a song, a trickling become
a gurgling, chuckling water voice.
Winds which bend the snows to melting
carry clouds of rain storms on shoulder.
Green islands appear on turtle's back
grasses long asleep beneath the snow.
Dawn of a glorious season, flowers
in merging, undulating waves of color
The taste of strawberries, anticipate
in their blossoms, the rich and fertile
smells of soil we bend to,
breaking ground for summer's corn.
-Peter Blue Cloud