Why am I here in Idaho?

It's a very warm and sticky night---no stars out yet here in the desert.

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I try to imagine myself on a sloop bending around the harbor. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the boat and the bubbles from the fish asleep below all tumble into a low roar. I sail up next to the dock and tie her up. She creaks her farewell--and the boom sways in the breeze.

Somewhere up the road is a moonlit garden that grows the tomatoes that I'll squash into our winters' supply.

Inside the canning jars are boiling away on the old stove late into the night. My tired arms are aching from turning the crank. The steam keeps billowing up against the windows making ghostly clouds.

Open the kitchen door and escape into the night--- come with me!

High above the shady oaks. Fly over the osprey nest and over the prickly pines. Find yourself in the cool of the starry sky--hang suspended in that moment--while the sky and the earth do a delicate dance. Dip down into the rushes by the pond. Salutations to the crane standing in the shallows. You can get your feet wet too.

The peepers are singing soprano and the crickets answer with a tenor line. The wind brings percussion from the aspens and the reeds surrounding the bank. The mud surrounds your tired feet with a smelly embrace.

Everything is shades of dark blue.

Run up the road again....brush off your feet on the deck and grab the hose. Drip dry.

Head off to the bathroom to put calamine lotion on your bug bites--careful not to smudge your pink dots you climb the steep stairs.

Time for bed.

Goodnight Maine Moon.

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I had a good talk with mom today. I miss home.