Caught any sights of comfort lately? Please do feel free to share. Saturday, I found myself inside a scene and wished to stay. Decided to tuck it into a prose poem.
Padding through Skagit Valley meadowland. Scent of damp sod. Salish Sea breeze cooling my fingertips. Sedges swaying, a dark ringlet of my daughter’s hair bobbing, and the mounds of blue hills quieting me from miles away. Above it all, Mt. Baker burning white with snow. But today, I’m not drawn to what’s highest (or lowest) but to what surrounds me. Those powder-blue hills are grandparents of a grown grandchild, wrapping around me from a distance, I’m encircled in their silent waves. As the sun lowers, they show me what’s possible — what it means for edges to be smoothed — their slopes turning cornflower, smoke-blue, periwinkle. The way they cup my seen world — their hush.
Photo by Jan Vanaberbeke, Creative Commons license via Flickr (postcard design by Will Willingham). Postcard text by Bethany Rohde.