Escape
I’m dreaming of a little place
in tall trees
lit by sunshine and snow
and golden aspen light
a place so flush with water
it bubbles out of the ground
and you can float on a pond
when you need to let go
I’m dreaming of a small space
with not too much to burn
that heats up quick
with the strike of a match
I’m dreaming of a break
from ash and scrap
where I can settle my head
deep into down
and dream blue white green dreams
where all breezes are innocent
all sparks kept to the stove
buying cold
she tells me doubtfully
it’s pretty dark
it’s back in the trees
that area holds onto snow
I grin
she suggests a different place
now this place over here –
this one’s sunny and bright
dry (but windy)
it melts out a lot earlier
I explain patiently
we’re looking for a little refrigerator
where we can escape the Plains
cold and wet is what we want
a place where all the PurpleAir disks glow green
where snow is measured in feet
where water sits right below the surface
ready to douse a spark
where the aspen are plump with sap
and the spring’s gushing never slows
a place to counter glare and ash and salmon skies
numb to the mercury’s fever
