On the last day of winter,
a lone daffodil flairs into bright yellow
in my neighbor’s planter box.

It gives me a burst of happiness
on this sad day
of too many cold disappointments,
and so I want to give thanks,
but how?

Then I see it,
the petal cylinder,
the tender trumpet,
like the mouthpiece
of an old-time telephone.

I lean down
and speak into it
one true thank you,
hoping the message gets through.