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.
Reading to the Core 
Did I comment?
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Thank you, Catherine. Your simile “layered like an unfrosted birthday cake” is perfect and takes me right to summer in the Grand Canyon (been there twice in that season).
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Dear Catharine,
Welcome back from what sounds like an otherworldly visit into the depths of the GC. I luv the idea taken from the poet Aimee.N., of “I thought I knew summer for example…. & how you have played with it. The imagery brings me such understanding of depth of colors & the feeling of isolation/separation from the jet above near the end, is shimmery. I glad you departed from form to share this travel time.
I have walked along both the north & south G.C. rims at the surface/tops, so I deeply appreciate those like you who make the effort to get to deep ground level.
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Beautiful, Catherine! Such vivid details and luscious language. A wise choice, diverging from the prompt to create your own.
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This is wonderful. I love how the enjambment masterfully takes us through layers like the layered canyon. And the turn to surprise! Nature is such a gift as is your poem.
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Catherine, I love seeing the Grand Canyon through your eyes. So visible “layered like an / unfrosted birthday cake” and thought provoking with “the water, / not enough for our thirsty world” Great poem.
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How fun to see the Grand Canyon through someone else’s eyes. I have known the joy of looking up at those sandstone walls and marvelling at Time unfolding. I really love how you incorporated lines of another’s poems into your own. I want to try that next!
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Brilliant use of a mentor poem! I love seeing how you wove her lines into yours. The Grand Canyon is still on my bucket list. I grew up in a dry landscape, but after all these years in Ohio, I’m sure it will feel strange.
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Ah! Gorgeous! Layers upon layers! May we all continue to broaden our understanding of summer and all seasons. xo
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Aimee Nezhukumatathil is one of my favorite, favorite, favorite poets. I love this! And wow you just captured it. So many great details.
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You wove this poem together beautifully, Catherine! What a great example of how to take a mentor text and run with it! You’ve managed a perfect balance of expansion– in terms of your understanding of summer–and contraction– as you focus in on your surroundings with exquisite details. Ending with the word “float” is perfect. (Also, this seems to fit the bill for the next challenge, too–such a sense of place!)
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Catherine, while reading your blog post over the weekend, I see that I never wrote a comment. Your poem is a tribute to the magical, magnifient Grand Canyan. When my family visited we awed by what you describe. I like the lines from the first stanza, I thought I understood summer for example–Now I know summer as towering sandstone cliffs. Your poem is a nature photo in words. Thanks for let me see the Grand Canyon from your point of view.
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