South of the Snake River
Early May... you slow-drive Lyons Ferry Road, drought not so evident. Windows rolled down, you look-'n-listen for ancient Nez Perce ponies. Double-wide farmhouses... shower-damp road, aged bloodshot eyes in the rear view mirror. You park the car, walk a crushed rock road. Head-down, you scrawl and organize --jerky penmanship-- simple toolbox words. Daydream-tangible, the sky turns choppy-grey.