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By Brooke Wickline A veil of mist blurs the view of landscapes I long to reach. A sapphire stream passes by. My feet brush against the soaked grass As I inch toward the first stone that glistens in the morning dew. I leap, I sit, & I wait. Mindless daydreaming unravels itself as I Yearn for the next stone, the next step. I swing my arms to part the vapor, But the sun breaks out to illuminate the cascading mist & shields my view past my stone. Instead, my eyes are guided to see the symphony of delicate happenings surrounding me: The thumping of my heartbeat, The whisking foam basking at the bridge of river & earth, & the wind dancing with blooming sprouts. All else vanishes from view. As I rest in your grace, it all falls into place. Brooke Wickline is a Latina writer and artist based in San Diego, California, with a Bachelor's in Writing and a double minor in Visual Art and the Humanities. When she isn't welding a pen, she's reading Mexican fiction or visually stunning comics.
Brooke's other work on Foreshadow: you don't see what i see (Poetry, November 2021)
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