life on high

Flying high above the Palouse, the patchwork below

appeared a tan-and-green quilt, atop sheets

and pillows

Stretched out to the horizon, as far as one could see,

from the pressurized confines of

my airline window seat

We would land in Boise, and who was I to meet

but the estimable Logan, bearing bagels

and cream cheese


It was the height of summer, the sun shone fierce

To the Tetons we’d drive, but to Pocatello first

Where his parents reside, outskirting the city

in their neat little home, with their cute little puppy

We packed up the van, said goodbye to them all

And took for the hills: to the wilds we were thrall

For the best trails were distant, the mountains remote

And our time together was fleeting, I was displeased to note


For days we hiked and camped and drove: to Table in the Tetons,

through the epic Yellowstone—

where, while trekking up Sepulcher Mountain, we espied a grizzly

(one cub, but no sow-kin)

There were squirrels and chipmunks and elk galore, along with hawks,

nutcrackers, and the occasional pronghorn

One night we bedded down beside some poor elk’s remains, as the sky

rent asunder, spewing forth celestial rain


Before I could blink, my time there was up

we hied back to Pokie; I gathered my stuff

I’d had just a taste, not nearly enough

of Rocky Mountain country—scant diamonds, mostly rough


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