When I bought my mountain cabin the old woman told me to look for tiger lilies in the summer. I didn't know what she was talking about, but one July morning, in the shade of the oaks, cedars, and pines, I heard your roar! Your arrival brought the fireworks of the forest! I remembered the poem about a tiger by William Blake and thought to myself: Tiger lily burning bright in the forests of the night...
Each year, tiger lily, your blazing visit leaves memories. Drawing close to find the tiger, my children once saw eye to eye with you. My sister held you in her wedding bouquet. When the old woman died, I took your black-flecked flames to the library, a beloved meeting place in the village. Before anyone looked at a book, they gazed at you. Whether in the cool quiet of the library or forest, your orange beauty delights and surprises.