Day 10 - Ada Limon's Invitation #WriteOut2024 @WriteOutConnect - What Would You Write About a Landscape Around You?

 I Am HERE

b.r.crandall

i don’t know what islands sound like. my guess is distance. the cadence of drummers moving marching bands onto the field on a saturday night or the low-hum of fishing boats revving engines while keeping wakes to a minimum. i’m hoping they sound like the buzzing of bees finding restoration from the scientists countering parasites and pesticides with protein possibilities - i welcome such songs for the cosmos still blooming under and october sun (for yourself, Mr. Whitman). 

i don’t smell horizons unless they’re baked with apples, cinnamon, vanilla, & wood barrel bourbon.

i listen to the small-talk at cocktail parties, the positioning of narrative to gas-light green lights and ashes under the eyes of dr. eckleburg (all to avoid t.s. eliot’s wasteland in search of another Schrödinger's cat).

i’m not a painter, but if i was, i’d mimic the changing leaves as they shout their bravado of last hues to the nudity of branches and bark.

i learned to add an ‘o’ to God in my younger years, and now look for good beyond our institutions that force definitions.

there is sky. grass. rock. ocean. forest. desert. mountain. lake. meadow. valley. watershed. wetland. beach. tree. and truth.

meaning escapes me now, standing on land looking at a sunset - we like to box ourselves in with concrete, walls, and boundaries.

i don’t know what islands sound like, but my guess is distance. the way brass instruments make harmony with winds.