Chelan, in Salish
it means “deep water.”
Innumerable pieces of our hearts
are folded there
into its blue waves.
They scallop toward us in dreams
reflecting the rugged green
of shoreline firs and pines,
little houses dotting the hillside,
boat slips bouncing near the shore.
The cabin cradled
in the hillside above it
echoes from the sound
of all we shared there,
our infant family
now grown large.
Memories, thick
as the blueberry pies
made from our fresh pick—
of our cooler filled
with sandwiches and apples,
our little open bow boat
filled with sunscreen
and laughter.
We lost sunglasses to Tsi-Laan—
t-shirts, frisbees, our hearts,
to the deep of it.
And those surrounding hills,
clothed in golden summer velvet
above the tree line,
get swallowed up in its crystal hue,
the way we always do—
the swell of memories
in a wake behind us,
floating on a dream.
For Melissa’s prompt at dVerse using the artwork of Alma Thomas. I used her Light Blue Nursery (1968) pictured above.
