One cannot pretend to have come to the wilderness when jets pass,
Rising from Kalispell's airport, and motors churn on the highway
Nearby. Nevertheless, it is placid here. I slept in a tipi, and, when I
Emerged, a half a dozen deer looked up, and raised their tails
And ran away. Birds supply the local noise. Nobody else has
Gotten up to turn me away from what I have been doing: watching
Clouds move east in waves above the firs and pines.