THE DAFFODIL FAIRIES
Fairies, I told my wife, fairies braided the daffodils in front of the porch last night. I can't wait to show the kids; won't they think it grand? Not fairies, she said. I braided the leaves so your friend Paul won't chop down the daffodils the way he chops down everything else around here. He's a madman with that weed whacker, doesn't know a daffodil from a dandelion. Fairies, I tell her again. They won't believe everything we tell them forever, you know. They're getting older now. Fine, she relented, tell them it was fairies. But make sure your friend stays away from my daffodils.
Poem Notes: This poem evolved from a conversation with my wife about our daffodils, proof that poems often spring from the simplest of inspirations. I admit to attempting to evoke one of my favorite Robert Frost poems here, The Death of the Hired Man, with Paul as Silas, my wife as Mary, and yours truly as Warren. In my poem, however, the temperaments of Mary and Warren are reversed. Paul is a real person I occasionally hire to help around our yard.
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Joseph Neely, all rights reserved.
One thought on “Of Fairies and Weed Whackers”
I love this!