Poetry-Nature

I stare into the crystal clear water and watch My life flow by in only a way nature can make it. My eyes wander to the trees and notice the pattern of the shadow the tree casts upon the rough black rocks. It is then I realize every aspect of the creek— the fish, the sun flowers and morning flowers, and a patch of purple lilies. My world— with its plants and animals, loud green frogs and slithery, scaly snakes. There is so much space yearning to be discovered, and I feel the need to explore it. I look up at the sky and realize just how lucky I am to be here— a place just behind my house, a place I can be alone and let my thoughts run wild. So, tell me now, where do you feel at peace? Where, is your world? Bethany Rayfield, 12Rolla, Missouri

Nestled between two gnarled tree roots Is a fairy house with A sunken floor of red clay, A triangular roof of interlocking sticks, And a winding path of pebbles leading to a Bark door. Inside, a sand-colored stone serves as a nightstand, And next to it lies a bed with a Moss mattress and maple leaf bedspread. A blank scrap of paper And a pencil sharpened down to an inch Wait expectantly on the nightstand, Placed there by the child Who constructed the fairy house, With hope of receiving a message from any Diminutive guests. But the paper remained as blank as ever, And the child abandoned her belief of fairies. Though perhaps She overlooked the mussed bedspread, Or disregarded the chip in the bark door, Or failed to notice the rose petal on the floor. Perhaps she overlooked the fact that fairies Cannot write. Lucy Hoak, 13Falls Church, Virginia