There’s gorse, of course
and sometimes broom,
the lichens yellow on the tomb
and every churchyard has its fill
of lovely yellow daffodils.
There’s dandelions and celandine
and yellow primrose, I suppose,
and fluffy yellow chicks are born
and yellow toads from slippery spawn.
And green is seen on every lawn,
at April’s end the woods turn blue
and tulips bloom in pink and red
with drooping leaves in every bed
but yellow bellows all around:
spring’s mating call, a joyful sound.
Julia Duke