When the Yellow Finally Arrives

by Riley Morsman

WHEN THE YELLOW FINALLY ARRIVES

Four houses south, daffodils lay claim

to the corner of the yard—green slivers

poking just above a winter’s worth

of brown. A month ago, I swore

the snow would never go. My soul, 

a heavy-lidded mother waiting 

for her daughter to come home. 

O, daffodils—by the time 

your buttery bells burst open, 

we already know. Can spring 

ever spring upon us? 

And yet I know in my bones

that our noses would still be 

nuzzled under stiff and downy 

tails without the daffodils’ 

song to rouse us. Green 

slivers might pry a single 

eye, but it is the tiny yellow 

trumpets that send us

to our feet.

O, my soul—hearken

to the sound of snow

seeping into sleeping soil. 

Learn to smell the earth 

thaw, to feel the rumble

of bulbs beginning 

their bumbling dance

beneath us. 

Yes, I'll say with palms

pressed against the still-

cold ground. Yes, 

she's on her way. 

When the yellow finally

arrives, I will be wide-

eyed. I will have loved

the brown and green

in the waiting.

RILEY MORSMAN

Riley Morsman is a graduate of the MFA Program in Creative Writing & Environment at Iowa State University. She writes creative nonfiction, poetry, and inter-genre work, which has been published in Fathom Magazine, Callas Press Literary Journal, Barren Magazine, and Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, among others. Riley currently resides in the Kansas City area with her husband and two sons. When she isn't writing, reading, or cleaning up the Hot Wheels (again), you'll find her doodling in the margins of her journals, planting new prairie perennials in her garden, hunting for treasures in local thrift stores, and putting too much honey in her tea.