Rolling waves of green blue spume, Soothe my aching feet, Silver specks whiz by against the stone, I look up from the shallow waters, The sky coated in a pastel orange pink, Seagulls soar my what beauty, A cooling breeze whistles by, It hums through tireless work day and night, The painter of the skies brushes his paintbrush silently, Tiny green creatures hidden in rough sand, Who are brave enough to disturb the quieting day, And now I must go before the waves whisk me off, I watch as the remains of sunset absorb into the now starry night. Nour Mokbel, 11Springfield, VA
Poetry-Nature
The Road to Williamstown
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, 12Quincy, MA
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, 13Sydney, Australia
