Dutchman’s breeches

trembling in the breeze
of passing trucks

all that effort

to pose as a corpse
wake-robins

hepaticas

the mountain’s timeless
spring fashions

what flutters

in the leaf litter
hepaticas

snowpack

the afterlife
of ghost plants

bound tight

by a dead leaf—
cleavers

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.

Flowers evolved as clickbait for pollinators.

You won’t believe what happened next.

dog sniffing

past the trailing arbutus—
coyote scat

bitter cold day

crushing dried horsebalm
for the scent of lemons

fog at first light

pale clumps of mountain laurel light our way