found in a flower
one beetle’s quota of sleep
longhorned to graze
in pastures of white
Clintonia or Solomon’s plume
and soon the black cohosh
looking up i spot a raccoon’s
wide-eyed mask
returning my gaze from the crotch
of a dying hemlock
every day has its dog
on Thursday for a long moment
i walked with a yearling bear
ahead of me on the trail
whose walk is it then
one can only wander
on the steep slope
above the railroad
i find a patch of jacks-in-the-pulpit
that the deer missed
a train hurtles past with blue
containers of stink
our daily delivery of refuse
from the megalopolis
i climb through century-old quarries
rocks shift underfoot
still settling
where mountain holly blooms
the breeze wafts ambrosia
from some reclusive azalea
i pause for breath
a vireo chirps in alarm
i stop for lunch
a hooded warbler scolds
down-trail a second-generation
mourning cloak butterfly
circles its dappled
patch of sun
territory folks defending
their stake in the sticks
while a distant cuckoo
chants her own name
gorging on tent caterpillars
and spotted lanternfly larvae
letting strangers
foster her offspring
this is the background
i can’t include in my shots
whenever i stop to snap photos
of new or bigger plants
how green is my mountain now
with so much CO2 in the air
my ankles brush against
the Aladdin lamps of pale corydalis
rising through the still-tender
hayscented ferns
and a mosquito sinks her rig
right through my hat
the sun may descend into haze
but the light’s still perfect
the mountain’s shadow stretching
across the farm valley to my east
i watch a manure spreader
ply the rows of a sterile field
growing the dead zone
out of mind in the Chesapeake
until the wind shifts
and i beat a retreat
back from my walk i turn
the garden with a fork
straining out noodley roots
of invasive brome
dry fists of dirt
crumble at the touch
