Soon enough, they will fill the roadsides.
For, already the sweet and succulent apple-green leaves are dense and hurriedly growing, ready to cover anything unable to outrun it--the fast feet of Daylilies.
Not that I don’t love them,
wait for them,
stand and stare at their velvety orangeness--
miss them when their day of beauty has passed.
But, bright and bold as they are, they’ve moved in and made themselves at home in a place not their own.
The waking woods are home to those more quiet.
Where, seeking the filtered light reaching the forest floor, the tiniest of lilies peeks from beneath the dried leaves of winter with nodding head, on delicate stem barely ankle high.
Trout-lilies, so named for their spotted leaves resembling the markings on trout, cover the hillsides here, sometimes in large colonies of one hundred plants or more.
And share a time with the great trees they stand beneath.
Hundreds of years, together.
Bright white or yellow,
catching rays of this first spring light.
Theirs is a rich joy.
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