We are in the valley between two mountains coated in blue, like sheep’s wool. It is suffocatingly beautiful, and exhilarating at the same time. A river runs by us. White stream-water moves quickly, unreservedly down the wooded granite peak towards the river, as if filled with the joy of being home. The road we took was far too filled with cars for any bird to call these woods their home. We were alone with the sky and trees, with the mountains and river. Sophie Nerine, 12 Quincy, MA
Poem
Love/Hate Relationship
Magnificence! There is no Screeching. The notes Are pronounced. Mistakes, Nonexistent. The beauty Piercing the ears. The sound Flowing, A river. Unlike Any other. I will listen to It all day. Hating When it ends. It makes me smile. Why me? Why me? It makes me smile When it ends. Hating It all day. I will listen to Any other. Unlike A river Flowing. The sound Piercing the ears. The beauty, Nonexistent. Mistakes, Are pronounced. The notes, Screeching. There is no Magnificence. Morgan Lane, 12 Longmont, CO
Winter
The howl of the wind The crisp air And the crunching of boots on a bed of snow The brightest white you will ever see The evergreens struggle against the wind Micah Lim, 8 Guilford, CT
Winter
The howl of the wind The crisp air And the crunching of boots on a bed of snow The brightest white you will ever see The evergreens struggle against the wind Micah Lim, 8 Guilford, CT
Pray
I kneel down to the river And say my prayers As I hear the water flowing and rolling I think about how freedom has overgrown The magnificent mud of the Mississippi I hear birds skim the treetops And remember how, when I was a little girl, My mom walked me there, and I saw the brown water I feel memories drift on the surface and See my shadow through the deep. Gianna Harris, 9 Metairie, LA
Winter
Frozen Beauty Soft, white, flakes drift down, following the wind. They bring a sense of happiness to the air. The golden rays of warmth strike onto the fluffy blanket below. The harsh cold still manages to crawl inside houses. Heat vents roar and the windows give out a moan. Thick clouds soon hide the sun. Smoke floats out of the chimneys into the bitter air, while leaves and grass are out of sight. The snow is swallowing up trees. Hot chocolate is being slurped down at every house. Now it is official. Winter is finally here. Sheila Northrup, 10 Madison, CT Hanna Gustafson, 12 South Burlington, VT
Winter
Frozen Beauty Soft, white, flakes drift down, following the wind. They bring a sense of happiness to the air. The golden rays of warmth strike onto the fluffy blanket below. The harsh cold still manages to crawl inside houses. Heat vents roar and the windows give out a moan. Thick clouds soon hide the sun. Smoke floats out of the chimneys into the bitter air, while leaves and grass are out of sight. The snow is swallowing up trees. Hot chocolate is being slurped down at every house. Now it is official. Winter is finally here. Sheila Northrup, 10 Madison, CT Hanna Gustafson, 12 South Burlington, VT
The Crazy Kid
Here is a naughty child. He acts like a wild tiger. He sounds like a screeching car. He pretends he is an exploding rocketship. He ate too much sugar before bedtime. Niko Mann, 10 San Anselmo, CA
Pizza
Dough spinning like a helicopter blade then toppings tomato sauce, veggies, cheese. It bubbles like hot stew in the oven, it sizzles on the pan. Crunchy as an apple Gooey as honey. Cheese drips like a lava waterfall. Crackles when I chew it, Explodes in my mouth like dragon fire. Devon Mann, 10 San Anselmo, CA
Afternoon Turns to Evening
afternoon turns to evening we wait cockatoos call through rustling trees their voices harsh, jeering, even— as though mocking us with their secret language water strokes the land’s edge with little splashes—plop, plop. and then three white specks soar over the water and onto the trees beyond if we were close enough, we could hear the rustling of wings as they land instead, we imagine it as though encouraged more cockatoos make the journey we count the splashes of white as though they were stars— eighteen, nineteen, twenty— now a whole group has burst from their hiding place still more come the air a frenzied mass of white finally, with agonising slowness, the last one makes its way over the water to the trees beyond this one is the teenager, the rebel we watch as it flutters in mid-air before choosing a branch to settle on the water begins to whisper once more the trees resume their chatter satisfied, we leave behind us, a blanket of cockatoos stifles the trees Laura Halliday, 13 Sydney, Australia
Creatures
Soon, creatures will wake up. Soon creatures will go to sleep. Some will not wake up. Owen Sessine, 10 Guilford, CT
I Remember the Water and the Wind
I remember the water and the wind — in the Adirondacks, in our small blue canoe. I remember the child’s paddle in my hands, with the muscles on my back and shoulders, tense and pulsing, with each stroke. I was maintaining our position in the water because I wasn’t strong enough yet to move us forward like Dad or Mom could. I remember how the rain hit my small back and stung each time, like bee stings. And I remember fighting the two-foot waves that splashed over and into our blue canoe. I remember feeling so powerful, and invincible, even though a good wave could flip us, and even though I was five, I felt strong. I felt strong among the storm, among the bee-sting rain, among the sharp wind, among the two-foot waves that soaked me, among my little sister, three years old and scared. And I remember being within all that chaos, and thunder and lighting, and tense muscles, and strong paddle strokes, and pumping blood, and chaos. I was immersed in the water and the wind. And I was laughing. Callen Bailey, 12 Lewisburg, WV
