One Daffodil It was March in the Texas woods, Then suddenly rolling thunder, Mitey, the pot-bellied pig Rooted for warmth down under. Tornados sited, none fell down, Wind came in a twisting bluster, We huddled the night in cabins, Woke to ground covered with luster. Through the dark night life had changed Snow was an inch or two thick, What I recall about those days Stuck in, the roads were too slick So I sat on an old wicker porch chair In the front of Cabin three One courageous little daffodil Stood tall in the snow, smiling at me. © By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)