we left Idaho
the Snake, Glacier, Flathead Lake
and beat the sun home



we left Idaho
the Snake, Glacier, Flathead Lake
and beat the sun home



the river’s icy
the current is too strong, son
but no one stops us

i can never look
without wanting to dive in
to fully swim. live.

they get this from me.
these kids who are not my kids.
these kids who are mine.


we swim for ice cream.
for these fleeting memories.
for their childhoods.


replacement opal
and no direct racism;
just trees, mosquitoes



the river’s too fast
for my paddle board, pup
but this waterfall

never a hot day
just the perfect everything:
lake, seltzer, beer, peaks




a roaring river
inaptly named Stillwater
brightens my morning


a glamping cabin
ends a drive past mountains, lakes
heaven, Montana



kids will never know
how much planning is involved
in any road trip


one day they will see
the weeks of planning, packing
to fill-up this car

scored a miracle:
thirty percent off this tent
the day i gave in

dream tent and dream house:
they go so well together
just like our family

that long Kansas road
alleviated by teens
learning to drive home


along a river
this fairy tale ferry stop
has stood a beacon




in muddy waters
kids get to be kids all day
while mamas paddle


nature is our home
found in Kentucky fire
lit by desire



there is no escape here.
only evasion.
it’s up this curvy road packed with hill after horse-country hill,
packed with perfect fences and horses whipping their tails,
with cars zooming past, some honking at my hugging-the-shoulder presence as i pedal
pedal
pedal
past these race-won mansions,
these stacked-limestone walls that can’t trap me in or out,
into the sunny, humid heat of midday Kentucky,
so far from home, so far from home,
so near to everything that is hard and easy, up and down these endless hills
in a circle that isn’t a circle.


