ou’re in all the places

I don’t expect.

The juniper and pine,

The sagebrush and

Mules ear and

Cornflowers.

Two years ago,

I picked petals and

Leaves and bark and

Pressed them into

Pages into envelopes

Into mailboxes that

Would carry them to you.

I knew your father’s

Street address by heart.

Knew the coffee stamps

Would make you smile.

Knew I needed you

Across every single mile

I hiked and ridge line

I crossed.

Today I sit by the creek

I told you I’d take you to

One day. I haven’t been

Back since I said that.

I dunk my hands in

And relish how the water

Turns my fingers blue.

Maybe I’ll cut them off

And send them home

In a box marked fragile.

Maybe then you’ll

Understand just how much

I miss you.