Day Lilies

Day Lilies

Each July they arrive
like city cousins come
to the country to escape
the burning sidewalks.
Swathed in orange,
gaudy in comparison
to the pious Easter lilies.
They hold up knobby buds
on slender, round stems
like newborn babies.
I snap off a flower,
cup it in my hand
like a waffle cone,
bite off the tip to suck
the nectar through the bottom.
They grow in profusion
on the steep bank
sloping to the creek,
choke out the shepherd's purse,
milkweed, and dandelions—
their short-lived beauty
is not fragile, but tough
as street urchins thriving
on the sheer determination
to bloom.