It was a year when lilies seemed most sad; 
  the springtime bluebirds knew something was gone, 
  for in the castaway shadows of the spring before, 
  two hearts had wandered far away from home. 

  You carried me this spring on trillium mountains 
  when all the flowers seemed too beautiful, 
  held me close with faithful, unseen hands 
  and bid me sing to You a lover's song. 

  Then placed me gently just beyond the foothills 
  summoned rivered eyes into Your wold, 
  carried me through spring on trillium mountains, 
  and let me paint three colors - I had none. 

  I think of what is gone, then I remember:  
  I'll never have to pass this way again. 
  Walk with me, dear One upon these mountains 
  where trilliums bare three colors in the wind. 

  Now I think of  You on trillium mountains 
  where in the distance plays a lover's song. 
  I'm stilled by lilies covering low valleys, 
  now sweet again  -  they carry me along. 
  

         Anne Bryant-Hamon 
         © August 1998 
 

 
 Photo Courtesy of Philip Greenspun