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.