Poetry-Nature

Look up. Can you see the moon? white as snow? The sun, as yellow as a new crayon? A baby blue sky like an ocean? Look down! Cold in one spot, warm in others, the creek is full of amazing creatures Our nets, shaped like D’s scoop up mud puppies and crawdads The still water is a mirror, and tripping on sharp rocks, I scrape my knee, But I am sad only because my teacher calls, “Time to go!” John Rager, 12Russellville, Kentucky

Every evening a tumbling, frothy white waterfall cascades over the mountains. Its thick, swirly, blanket settles among the trees, and oozes into the valley. It keeps coming; soft, white and misty. It reaches its tendrils around each tree. You can see it creeping, crawling like it is sneaking up on someone. As the sun sets, yellow rays shine through its top layer of mist. So bright are the sun’s last rays it drowns the mountain’s green Till all you can see is the very outline. The sky darkens. Slowly, the froth pools in the valley and rests its head. One by one the stars come out, shining crisp in the cold clear night. The fingers of mist wake early and start retreating back over the mountains to the sea. Slowly the world wakes up. The sun shines its first blossoming rays towards the sky. The soft blanket slips back over the hills, hoping not to be seen. Robin Sandell, 11Portola Valley, California