Crossing the Columbia in second gear,
my tires rolled over the grate-bottom bridge.
Windsurfers skitted below,
like stilted bugs on a pond’s surface.
The afternoon sun warmed
the dusty hills north of the River.
Land Dogs roamed gravel roads
while August crickets tuned their instruments.
Clusters of grapes cascaded off a wooden gazebo
The smell of freshly laid wood chips beckoned,
like a brand-new playground.
I followed a smiling stranger through tall grass.
Purple wildflowers waved in the gentle wind.
A cluster of hammocked trees in the distance:
a pine forest oasis.
Soon after, country music,
reminiscent of childhood summers in Texas,
faded out.
Forty-six hands held twenty-three wishes.
Names were shared
alongside desires
for connection, serenity,
and glimpses of the natural world.
soft claps
light snaps
The sun sat somewhere it belonged.
A grill on the porch came alive.
Shoes were scattered carefully at the stairs,
lit by the front door bulb.
After a friendship formed at the kitchen sink,
I watched card games at the table,
satellites in the night sky.
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