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Charlie the Dog, on his afternoon run ...

Reading some Richard Hugo tonight, and some lines from his poem "Driving Montana," that seemed to fit the photo I posted earlier: Tomorrow will open again, the sky wide as the mouth of a wild girl. friable  clouds you lose yourself to. You are lost in miles of land without people, without one fear of being found: in the dash of rabbits, soar of envelope, swirl merge and clatter of streams.

Hiking the Bridger ridge north of Bozeman, with Charlie the Dog: