Sea of Grass, 2019, Sean Johnson
To You, When You Need It
I’m not your childhood, and you’re past the days of hide-n-seek, easy summers, and skinny dipping, of soothing your toes by walking barefoot in the grass. Perhaps I cannot cool your soles for you. I have not enough bounty to purchase you three wishes. But perchance I can write you a flowing stream. I can write you a stream surging over velvet rocks. Let me write you a valley stretching like the sky, roaming unafraid. Let me write you a Tiffany blue ocean so clear that you can watch schools of fish undulate with the movement of the unknown. And when you find your peace and it seeps beneath your skin like water into soil, let me write a path to guide it’s nourishment to your bones.