Streams, Lakes, and the Great Escape

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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. 













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