Where would you go if the road were clear? …Not cluttered and full of holes? …How would you go if you could steer? …If you had hold of the wheel? …And why would you venture at all? Or ask instead, why not?
Where I would go would is anywhere, and hope I could reach everywhere. I would go by plane or by bus or car or boat because I could fly or float or walk or roll. But I would go.
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I dream of last year’s summer days.
 
Of the grandeur of the Zion when I hiked the path at daybreak before the heat wove its way deep into the canyons, and I heard the icy water rush past me on its own journey.
Of the rich emptiness of the Wyoming pastures where surely
only the best survive, and I heard Cheyenne history blowing in the winds.
  
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I dream of f friends and starry nights, presidents and monuments. I dream of Buffalo and bears and geysers and meteors.
And I would go again…if the road were clear.
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