In just three more minutes

I'd tell you about Priest Lake, Idaho

In July, I stayed in an old Forest Service cabin built by the CCC in the panhandle of Idaho. My friend Sarah, a writer, owns the cabin with her husband, Jim. They provided the stay as part of a silent auction supporting Elk River Writers’ Workshop (yes, I’m obsessed!). Sarah and Jim hosted us for a lovely dinner; she and I talked about our writing over coffee in a quaint bakery & diner in Priest River. As with the poem I shared in last month’s Substack, I read this poem at Elk River in August, keeping within the three-minute limit for our evening student readings.

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Priest Lake, Idaho

July 12th, 2025

In three minutes,

or even fewer,

can I distill off-grid living

in an old Forest Service cabin

nestled in woods

just west of Priest Lake, Idaho,

way up in the chimney stack?

Getting there,

feeling butch behind the wheel

of the rented 4Runner,

shoulders knotted from the pull and drag

of curvy county roads giving way to gravel,

I stopped the truck,

letting the dust settle

momentarily.

Lost, I joked, pointing to a hen house,

“I guess that’s it!”

My friend Sarah, our benefactor,

spotted us from her Big House up the hill.

Eager,

she skipped down

the meadow

to greet us.

Her welcome, along with husband Jim’s,

was a dozen fresh eggs from that same coop,

waiting for us in the fridge.

Dinner crescendoed to

huckleberry crumble from that day’s haul.

I’ll admit to fearing

scarcity, disconnection:

No cell,

No internet.

Only solar power on sunny days.

But, an abundance

of whipped cream, fresh off the hand mixer,

with strawberries,

a Kaffeeklatsch in town, talking friendship

and musing over poetry.

And just up the road, a walk

in an ancient cedar grove.

We took turns filling the frame for scale.

Farther afield,

despite my fear of borders,

a day trip to Canada.

Korean lunch:

bulgogi poutine.

Then back to the cabin,

a feast of steak and wine

in the sun-soaked kitchen,

shoulders still taut

from crossing a border,

from training the wheel on

curvy county roads,

giving way to gravel.