Trillium nivale


Trillium nivale
What could you possibly have to say?
There is nothing for sale
No roads to cross or waves to make
Nothing to prove
Nothing to win or lose
A most sheltered spot to sit
A creek going by below
And the ground rising like an amphitheater all around
With wild hydrangea an audience
And shooting stars in the cheap seats

Snow trillium
The cold has just gone
And you are flowering without words


Previously published in
A Swineherd’s Journal


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