Restless Smiles and Daffs
Perhaps it is this time of year. Perhaps. Though, this time of year typically means I've bought myself daffodils. Ironically, I did not buy them in the rain this year. Someone told me a few weeks back I was very Wadsworth with the daffodils. Perhaps. The English Major for Life in me wants to agree with his own English degree self, but the feminist in me wants to knee gut that shit. I think I'll step back and take the romantic imagery of Wadsworth instead. "A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze." Indeed, probably one of the more famous poems of the language I type in. "I Wandered Lonely on a Cloud" was one I recited back in my undergrad days for a lit professor I once had. All that was a lifetime ago, scores and hundreds of daffodils purchased have come and gone. As another arctic vortex swoops in, threatening to freeze me in my solitary ex...
