Daffodils
(antidote to overdoses of Wordsworth)

There's something sinister in them, I say - stiff as foxes scenting the air for prey, censoring the soundwaves, screening the breeze, feral, alarming, greedy with needs. And carcinogenic, as I have read - call out the Queen of Hearts, 'Off with their heads'! Gill McEvoy

If you've any comment on this poem, or on daffodils in general, Gill McEvoy would be pleased to hear from you.