Poetry-Nature

My basket swings around my bare muddy feet I run up the rushing river with my basket swinging around I give my voice to the wind as calmly as it moves I run freely along the brown mud with the sparkling water next to me trying to get to the flower meadow where the river flows I see my footprints way behind me as they try to catch up There is that pretty meadow I start to pick the blooming flowers I rushed to the river and then I quickly put my feet into the crisp water I lie on the fresh spiky grass with a few flowers circling the hot sun shines all around me and I close my eyes The fish start to nibble that makes me tickle I close my eyes as hard but the sun still shines I open my eyes and look around Where is the river and flowers? Garden In The Day by Kathleen Werth Deeba Kord, 10Louisville, CO Kathleen Werth, 7Silver Spring, MD

A cousin pointed you out to me when strolling calmly to the abandoned playground. “A weed!” she falsely exclaims while she prods at your emerald leaves. However, my eyes must be deceiving me, for I see the most enchanting creature that is known to man. Your velveteen leaves, with drops of morning dew, are mirages, transforming from a freshly spun creamy golden foam to an arctic forest green as deep as the night itself. Your indigo bud, hidden behind blankets of green, is a freshly washed gown hidden in the back of a dress shop, anticipation flooding through every one of Nature’s stitches, waiting for that someone to see it for what potential it has. A gift from Heaven itself, masked behind the role it has been granted. Instead of plucking it from where it has begun to flourish, instead of pressing your immaculate body against the coarse bindings of my scrapbook, instead of trying to alter your stunning figure, I let you go silently, for it is not my choice whether your kind may stay alive or not. There is nothing I can do, except for to hope that my memory of you will not fade away. Today, I continue to see your long lost brothers and sisters on evening strolls, in sunlit valleys, and inside the inner workings of my heart. Katy Meta, 13Pittsburgh, PA