I thought I saw Kat near the bus station, beneath sparkling leaves 
           in sleek summer clothes, dazzling as the morning light
Treetops split the radiance around her; I know if she smiles, she  
           will fuse those fiery shards together
But I don’t wait to see. I turn away, looking for the 10:05, because 
            she probably doesn’t know me at all. 

​

On 17 north near the mountains, cotton-blue sky, bluffs and
            meadows like shimmering gardens  
If you doze, you feel the tingling of haunted canyons; graffiti 
            carved by those who have become ghosts 
After a steep climb the Grossingers sign looms, overlooking a world
             at end, as our bus slips cautiously by. 

​

Riding through Liberty, pale granite and dust, gasping old stores; strutting 
             unemployed, pretending to own the streets
I settle into a small cabin, then walk outside, purple twilight  
             descending on the woods nearby
A sparrow chants; a young woman sits cross-legged at a picnic
             table and asks who I am.  

​

Her dark eyes mirror the changing sky; a breeze carries a pine-needle scent; 
             her smile is clever and makes me smile
I’m here for a new beginning, I admit. She points to the moon, impeccably round  
             just above the horizon
Stars seem to creep out as if from behind a curtain. She brushes hair from
             her cheek, and thanks me for a gorgeous night.