Wednesday, May 03, 2006


Almost could not walk
for the trillium
pinned by their
shy shadowy points
amid the young
tender green
A color only seen
on the heaviest of
moon days
I stooped to lift
its chin, bowed
to the majesty
noonday bright
And the second time
a butterfly winged
my heart I wondered
Does the butterfly
know the trillium?

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