Writ & Whimsy

In the corner of my yard, 
by the funny crooked tree 
sheltered in the gentle shade 
dwell a cluster of daffodils.

Leaning sleepy on their stalks,
heads bowed gracefully serene
like courtiers awaiting 
the arrival of a king.

Dreamy, waiting for the sun
to ascend up to its throne,
to rouse them from their slumber
with its glorious radiance.