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.