Streams, Lakes, and the Great Escape
Chasing the last fall warmth of the Columbia River Basin My lungs rest well in the soil I climb and shovel jagged rocks a thousand times on my way up to the sky I can feel a good cloud cry coming in an otherwise steel framed soul Dad flew by as a flock of traveling song birds and I realize where I'll always find him By the water, of course It doesn’t matter that I am sad, the wind carries the weight I turn the key in my week old clothes and smile I ran away to a marbled cliff chapel.