Through shades of grey and blue I see transparency. A small beacon of light hovers over the Puget coast. Greet me between the tides with wet kisses falling gently. My former fears begin to fade beyond the shore.
Soft rain evaporates from a warm coffee mug, floating higher into an evergreen sky. The sun peaks between the pines – their needles pillows against my rising feet. Suddenly you speak in the stillness above the tree line. It’s like I’ve never heard the wind.
But I’ve lost myself in November, in the shadows of this city. All around me card board creatures sing narcotic anthems to the night. The moon pervades and enslaves me, callousing my mind. I try to call you in this darkness, but the rain conceals my cry.
City of sadness, give me your water-resilient skin. Transient home, teach me to be content. I came here to feel something new. But I am an Indian summer – a dust bowl gem passing through.
Heather Condren 