Wintergreen

Sprinkles of snow in the spruce woods,

night-lights that ripple and whisper

in thickets of larch and pine.

In the axils of upper leaves

your white star-like corolla

a soothment for wounds.

You are good for clarity of mind –

repeating your name at night

in periods of drought

renders the spirit receptive.

Somewhere close at hand

you are hiding until I find you:

a remedy for solitude

a prickle of white in the wood.