A little seed falls on the ground, it becomes a little sprout. When the wind blows, it starts dancing all about. It sways from side to side, it bobs up and down. The little sprout is growing, it has become a rose. The rose is growing, it is taller than a little mouse, it is taller than a rabbit, it has become the size of a dog! The rose stops growing, it stands in the same spot, for many, many days until winter comes. The frost and snow come, now it must hide underground. So, petal by petal it withers away. The next year it happens again, and again, and again . . . Grace Jiang, 11Ontario, Canada
Poetry-Nature
Snow
drifting falling a small voice calling through the wind through the clouds snowman made on the ground a snowball fight begins a cold ball hits me on the chin Eliza Wagner, 8West Hartford, CT
Snow
drifting falling a small voice calling through the wind through the clouds snowman made on the ground a snowball fight begins a cold ball hits me on the chin Eliza Wagner, 8West Hartford, CT
