This is how it feels to be lost in springtime.
You walk among fiddlehead ferns
coiled in circinate vernation, and trout lilies,
galaxies of yellow stars on the green forest floor.
They remind you of yellow glacier lilies
on the Pacific Crest because the white ones
were called avalanche lilies. This was once important.
Dogs know the way home, it’s best
to follow them to a familiar doorstep, one
that needs fixing, the middle board snapped in two
By last winter’s falling roof-ice.