Alleluia. These stars of yellow greeted me this morning as I stepped into the front yard. Spoon-shaped spikes just two weeks ago, the crazy girls have exploded, bringing their quiet revolution into this world of magic and madness.

The newspaper spins stories that break my heart and mess with my mind. National Public Radio bristles with brilliant voices addressing problems too perilous to ignore, too complex to grasp. People are marching in Egypt and Illinois and Libya, full of rage and hope.

As we humans stumble over each other, trying to make sense of this world, knocking elbows, butting heads to find our place, these common daffodils, thank Goodness, just tend to their business.

They gather themselves from bulb and root and earth and stand in the air, no matter how cold, trumpeting their scent, laying bare their beauty. They remind me, with their mellow moxie, that beauty, mayhem, magic and madness share common ground. It’s all about seeing and sensing beyond the surface and always, always singing alleluia.