I watched the world unfold
into slate crags and endless cloud,
fields of dandelions left untouched;
wishes left for the wind to carry
over fallen trees, whistling
across the mountains.
I sit quiet beneath them, beside
blowing leaves, watching
water touch shore in two-inch waves.
The song stuck in my head,
forgotten in the desert:
bluebells, shadowed, in summer rain.
By Heidi Turner