Daylight bids its fond adieu,
Evening splices time in two;
What was, turns into yesterdays,
What will be, is the gift that stays.
She was sure Yesterday
was dead and gone. She had,
after all, buried it deep
in a wooden crate
under the old apple
tree (the one that split
down the trunk
during the storm of
’79). So
when it raised its hoary
head, she knew
someone had opened
Pandora’s Box.
*************
This daylily’s name? Pandora’s Box, of course.