Happy July, everyone! I hope your Independence Day celebrations were full of food, fun, and fireworks. It’s the first Friday of the month, so it’s time for another Inkling challenge. This month, Heidi suggested that we “write a short postcard poem with choice details of your vacation/holiday/getaway/escape location and activities. Conclude with “Wish you were here” or some variation!”

As usual, I did not follow these directions. Rather, used Aimee Nezhukumatahil‘s stunning poem, “What I Learned in Greenland,” from the summer issue of Orion (sadly, the poem isn’t available online. Sorry!) as a mentor. The lines I “borrowed” from Aimee’s poem are in italics.

What I Learned in the Grand Canyon
(after Aimee Nezhukumatahil)

I thought I understood summer for example–
the season of hayfields and shady maples–but I never
knew it surrounded by rock and sand. Now
I know summer as towering sandstone cliffs

of every imaginable shape, layered like an
unfrosted birthday cake, the edges rough
and uneven. And now summer will always mean
hot winds blowing sand everywhere, in 

my eyes, my hair, my ears. And the water,
not enough for our thirsty world, the color of chocolate
milk, churning over boulders the size of small cars,
so cold it takes my breath away. Wispy green tamarisks 

line the river’s banks in stark contrast to the rough reds, 
tans, and blacks of canyon walls rising a mile above me. 
And at night the arch of the sky is hemmed in by those walls, 
creating a glittering trail of stars. And just when I think 

there couldn’t be any more surprises, for what could be 
more astonishing than what I’ve seen already, a slot
canyon comes into view, its sinuous walls sculpted by
cool, clear water. Its shade beckons. Somewhere overhead 

a plane engine whines. I imagine tourists pressing faces
against small windows, oohing and aahing over the 
sight below. Soon the plane flies off. I am left in this
ancient place, flowing water the only sound and I

know that no matter how many New England summers
I think up, I know I will never forget what it feels like to 
slip into a hidden pool at the bottom of the Grand Canyon
and float.

Draft, Catherine Flynn © 2024

Please be sure to visit my fellow Inklings to read their postcard poems:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Mary Lee @Another Year of Reading
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Heidi @my juicy little universe

And don’t forget to visit Jan at Bookseedstudio for the Poetry Friday Roundup.