Spring Fling, by Jane Tulloch

“I wandered lonely as a cloud- “
“Wait a minute, who said clouds are lonely?”
“That Wordsworth guy.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s actually true though.”
“No. But people say all sorts of daft things and call it poetry.”
“Well what could he have said then?”
“I walked about all by myself?”
“That’s not very poetic.”
“Right enough. How about- on my lonely walk I glimpsed a host of golden daffodils?”
“A host? Glimpsed? Really? I thought daffodils were yellow anyway.”
“Ok. While I was walking about all by myself I saw some daffodils.”
“Nailed it. Not very poetic though.”
“Argh!”