Poem: Priceless

Priceless

Roadside entrepreneurs with daffodils
stripped from the neighbour’s garden,
slightly battered, tied with twine, arranged
in a bucket. Sunny faces turned up to the blue.
Cardboard gripped in cold hands:

FOR SALE .50c A BUNCH

School holiday endeavour
on a quiet main road
in a rural town.
Locals pass.
There are daffodils everywhere here.

Quarry truck, grey as the stone
it carries, slows, stops.
Money exchange: big hand to small.
For my wife, the driver says.

Tomorrow his cab will still smell
floral. He’ll remember. Soft smiles.
Heirloom crystal vase, as if
they were a dozen roses.

The golden blooms nodding,
yes yes.