Wallowa, Oregon

A dip in the lake or rivers
Is more like a plunge into ice.
Picking wild huckleberries
Fresh, right off the bush
And eating them...
That's where I'm from.
Stopping at the only
Fast food stop in town
Burgers and chickenstrips
Are like candy for the nose.
Not a single traffic light-
Not one- in the whole county.
Beating drums heard
From a quarter of a mile away
Helping me to sleep.
I miss the grainy dirt
Of Grandma's vast garden.
I miss the openess
And seeing every single star at night.
I miss those mountains-
Especially the one that looks
Like Chief Joseph.
I miss Tick Hill
Looming over the town.
The thing I hear most
When I go there now
Is "Is that you?
My, how you've grown!"
I miss my tiny
Tourist attraction county,
Hillbilly Hell.
I miss my home,
It's history.
I miss Wallowa, Oregon.

Favorite Poem from "Sound and Sense"

To a Daughter Leaving Home
By Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

Paston, Linda. "To a daughter leaving home." Sound and Sense.Thomson Wadsworth, 2005.

New Year's Eve

Junky, Chunky
Fattening, filling.
Noisy sparks of various hues
Silly feet tapping out nonsense
gatherings of drunk and not
Mistakes are forgotten
Pick yourself up and try again.

Gabcast! Kayla Poetry #1

So Much Depends Upon...

Stormy and Ashley

So much depends
Upon

My two best
Friends that

Are totally
Awesome

And are always
There for me.

stormy fuller and i (when we were friends)
ashley friedrich (my best friend)