Idaho

There is a house

In south-central Idaho

Where the neighbors live

Far across the dusty plains,

Not for fear of the dog

Patrolling the yard,

But to tend their fields

Of stars, suspended in flight

And huddled together

In constellations, schools

Of celestial fish, shining

Blinking on and off

Synchronized with the staccato

Chirps of crickets emanating

From the grass-spattered

Ground outside the back door

Held in place by the old boards

That, creaking softly, support

Our veteran refrigerator

Preserving the crops we have

Grown on this lazy summer day.