My mother weeps to see the flowering forest floor.
"Those are Dutchman's Britches. Your grandma
loved them." Eleven months the plant is stored
underground. We didn't bring the camera.
A chill rain begins to fall. The flowers furl.
Twenty degrees tonight, but they can stand a freeze--
The snow protects them. Above, the wind curls
smoothly around the mountain. Whispering trees.