Dry Grass

Dry Grass | East Wenatchee, WA | 2017

The grasses on the bluff spoke to her. She could sense a kind of expression, perhaps a warning, in their tangles and swoops. Like lines in an open palm or tea leaves in a cup, the leaning stalks were telling her something. The message remained unclear, but she believed it was real. It had even changed slightly from yesterday’s walk-by — more spiky today, more persistent. She opened her awareness to the bluff, the grasses, the universe. What? she demanded. But not out loud. In her mind. What do you want?