The orange day lilies
lining creek banks
will never know how much

I love them

or how I look to them for hope.
The way those bulbs washed
downstream and rooted

somewhere unprecedented,

so blooms emerge from
old tires, steep, rocky
juts in the bends, and are

dotted as far as I can see

in the twists and turns
where water rages after rains,
holding on tight.

I want to be like them.

Defiant and bright.
A beacon for anyone
who cares to notice.