Of her teenage days without a home
the woman says, “But there were parts
I wished would last forever. The mountains
as the sun rose, watching from inside
a moving boxcar.”
For me, it was the water
in the marl spring, that bubbled
up out of the clay within dim
shadows of the cedars
too clear to see until we bent
our faces down to drink before
we headed back to camp
on one October night.
Most people if they’re lucky
see a landscape they remember
for the moment that it made the world
seem real, a place
that they would never want to leave.
The really lucky people, I believe,
are those who find a way to
see that landscape everywhere
in each new moment of their lives.