still nodding

where the fisher broke cover
foamflowers

Grown old and grizzled,

you no longer have to wonder whether her scent is meant for you.

You won’t believe what happened next.

past the trailing arbutus—
coyote scat

crushing dried horsebalm
for the scent of lemons

pale clumps of mountain laurel light our way

slumming it in the leaf duff still looks fabulous

fine hairs stirring from the photographer’s breath

two missing petals but still an immaculate shadow

I jangle the loose change in my pocket

take aim at the overcast sky

the two goldenrod stalks topple together