July 16, 2013: Wyoming
My hood up against the nearing cold.
From Badlands to Black Hills,
we struggled over the mountains,
Pausing to let acrid smoke dissipate,
Cooling the brakes.
Wyoming whiskey tastes like
Wide open and
barren, but lush with a sense of
anything could happen in the scrub brush.
Born out of want
gold from thin air
as much as from suffering.
Profit from the blood
of those who came before
(were here first)
for those who would come after.
July 16, 2013: Bison, Yellowstone