Who would guess, with your pair
of downcast, blousy blossoms
so close to your matted leaves,
that you are actually a shrub?
No hiding in these bushes.
But you bank the berm
of this irrigation ditch
in the forest, witness to water
hurrying from creek to orchard.
At least there are two of you,
every time—for each fork
in the channel, a second opinion.
—Lake Chelan National Recreation Area