Bluebells bring upon faith— happy teardrops waiting to be unfurled, tendrils on their stem still waiting to grow, eager for the beauty that a bell withholds. All other flowers blur behind these bells of wisdom, like back in the old house in Roslyn, where we had a mini garden with orange tulips gleaming in the fading moonlight of fertile brown soil, earthy and sweet, and I would fold in my fertilizer beads: green pearls were what I called them as a child— each pearl giving rise to its most perfect plant: beingness folded inside, all as one, soul in body. Sabrina Guo, 13Oyster Bay, NY Lulu DeMallie, 11Naples, NY
Poetry-Nature
Birds
They tweet, They trill, And always seem very thrilled. They soar, They glide, And climb the clouds. Until they come Right back to me, Into the birdhouses, Where they know they’re free. Isabel Goodey, 11 Livingston, NJ Sage Millen, 10 Vancouver, BC
Nature
Sometimes nature calls to you And you long to be outside Basking in the full light of the moon Or maybe the babbling brook Nearby your house Holds an importance That it has never possessed before And even if you don’t mean to You suddenly find yourself Outside turning cartwheels on the grass Watching the world spin in dizzying circles Penelope Purchase, 11Berkeley, CA
