Tell Dad I’m sorry.
Tell him I’m eating, grizzly bear and bearberries. I’m wearing mukluks, yes, boots, and I’m carrying sleeping bags. Tell him one of them is orange. He’ll like that. Tell him.
Tell him I’m growing into a mountain, hollowing out into a canyon, draining into a river.
Tell him I know he didn’t bring me up to walk barefoot to America, didn’t bring me up to juggle birds in flight, didn’t bring me up to be a tree in the forest that falls when there’s no one there.