After the Thunderstorm on Mount Rainier

White avalanche lilies bend in the meadow,
yellow stamens pointing in crazy directions,
no longer toward sunlight but up and down
and across the melting mountain slope. 

What other directions do I need? 

Inside our burrow, fur of the hoary marmot
keeps me dry.                     

In the valley I didn’t know this. I thought
I had to save my children. I even believed
I had to cook dinner.



Penelope Schott