Following Your Lead | Idaho

Spring glows warm behind a lacy curtain of leaves, and I’m following your life-long lead into the deep green. A gun on your hip, a fishing pole in hand like you were made to carve a life from this land.

Your cowboy hat has seen a million miles or more, including this damp spring thunderstorm. That canvas pack was slung over Grandpa’s back once too, producing the same lures and line that tethered a hundred fish or more to you and he, and him to me. Traveling light, and a long stride when adventure is nigh, your grin tweaks your mustache to the side.

My footprint in yours, vision obscured, and sight restored by our impending dream of a cutthroat breaching in an alpine stream. |