Three guys and three women from Potlatch asked permission before using the community lawn in front of our cabin on Lake Coeur d’Alene. Bud light and laughs. They were loud last night till after midnight while I slept under the stars, excited to see the Perseid shower from a sky that defines the word dark.


The green jeep next door has a dent in the side and just over fifty thousand miles. They got it from a retired guy for a song. Sits parked under a canopy of cottonwoods that sprouted up on both sides of a longhouse.


Old Glory flies from our cabin, which stirs some feelings of bygone days when the reflection of the moon on the lake lights it up some nights. But it also reminds me of the coming election and how most of these folks vote.


Justin says he’s 27, worked in a mine in Nevada for a while. Now he’s an appraiser in his small town and it took him a while to figure out that he might be a little unpopular for raising people’s taxes.


Jet skis and boats, tonight’s first glass of wine. I had to think about it before jumping in today, water’s maybe 62. And all day I have been the scribe, writing a poem an hour and trying to take it all in.

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