Hey, Stranger Stranger

I could have been quaint
and asked a stranger about those drooping
white blossoms, pointed leaves and slender stems,
flowers upside down, dripping like milk.

Instead I tasked my phone and asked
a stranger stranger, who gave me fifteen
fast photos of the flower before my eyes.
Snowdrops.  They look particularly splendid 

when planted in drifts. Siri is right,
though she doesn’t grin, dirt under 
her nails, pink tinted glasses on her head
ready to tell you anything.