Wednesday, May 7, 2014


photo: ralph murre

by Peggy Trojan

When snow melts
in the deepest shadows
of our Wisconsin woods,
white of wild trilliums
takes its place.
Though my father understood
the state has claimed them
as their own
and threatens fines
for anyone who argues,
he dared every May
to walk the south forty,
his sweetheart
with a large bouquet
of spring
offered in his wide
calloused hand.

~ first published in Rav'n