I’ve seen a few places: California coasts and Wyoming sagebrush, endless Montana vistas and jagged Idaho peaks, the Cliffs of Mohr on a sunny day in June, endless Washington evergreens and rodeo grounds in a dozen states. Some people sink down roots and remain in a place. I sink my roots into the wind and roll along like the tumbleweeds on Interstate 15 between Butte and Dillon, Montana.
Over the miles I learned to love the smell of pines and the sharp tang of sage, the power of words on paper, the joy of new people, and the heartbreak of moments that you will never get back.
I’ve been a college student, a rodeo queen, a drinker but rarely a fighter, a state competitor, a teacher, a horse trainer, a veterinary technician, a wilderness adventurer, a miner, a corrections officer, a journalist, a friend, a daughter and a sister. If I get my way I’ll be a lot more things before I’m done here.
But no matter how many things I will be, or how many times I will change the course of my path, I will always be a lover of words.
Soul Ink is in short: a year of poetry, a year of life, a year of laughter and loss, wins and losses. Find it on Amazon.