I hand wash the antique camisole then hang it on the line. I watch it gently blow in the wind anchored by the wooden clothespins. The prairie breeze touches each thread each memory the hard work the heartache the hardheaded. Open to adventure she willingly came here. She arrived to the vast open prairie her dreams lit by the stars scattered across the black light by sparkling lakes honking geese gentle grasses billowing clouds and sky everywhere.

In the darkness of early morning the supermoon descends to the horizon. She is like a nightlight. Strong shadows fall against the white snow becoming longer with dawn. An airplane moves across the navy sky 40,000 feet up. Behind it a long tail is left in its wake. Heading west over South Dakota toward Montana...