Jonquils | Carol L. Gloor

Jonquils | Carol L. Gloor

The water always begins us,
soaks our bulb skin,
swelling us tight.

What can we do but push
through winter’s death:
grey grass, windblown sticks.

We must reach for light
to sprout our yellow trumpets,
golden collars, to release
our first fragrance
in the few days of our life.

They call us Narcissus,
but were there a pool next to us
we would not bend
to see our reflection.
We do not come for ourselves, for you.
We have no choice,
which is why you love us.

Carol Gloor is an ancient woman living on the shores of the Mississippi River in far northwest Illinois. She’s been published in many journals (most recently The Kerf and Riverrun.), and her chapbook, Assisted Living, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2013. She tries to tell the truth, and as Emily Dickinson said, she tells it slant.