Poetry-The-Seasons

Fog wisping through the Douglas firs Rain dripping from the wind-whipped boughs Crisp and cold fresh autumn air The smell of spruce and dampened earth. An ocean vista filled with fog Like a misty edge of the world Only the ceaseless distant roar Betrays the presence of the waves. Fog increases the distances Close Sitka spruce seem faraway The trees merge into soft pale mist Gray rain pours from an ashen sky. A forest on the ocean cliffs Blown with wild wind and lashing rain The stark truth of towering trees The beauty of an autumn storm. Rosemary Engelfried, 13Hillsboro, Oregon

The fields are a wonder in summertime: Midnight black like the sky, With twinkling lights like stars. What are those lights? Hundreds of fireflies flittering about, Tiny and so nimble. Their lights shine on and off, Making the field like shiny sequins, Like moonshine dancing off the sea. I run out into the field, The half-grown wheat scratching my legs, The ground soft and damp, The air humid and fresh. The fireflies dart away from me, Intimidated by my presence, But I don’t mind. I watch them from a distance. They float above the wheat, Like bright candles in the field. Glancing up at the heavens, I see the stars, Bright candles in the sky This is the moment When Heaven and Earth meet: The stars in the sky are the stars on the ground. How strange it seems That something as small as fireflies Can bring these two vast kingdoms Together as one. Jennifer Hu, 13Hummelstown, Pennsylvania