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 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)