Flashlight light draws two silhouettes walking side by side. As the canvas of this heavy darkness turns to this silent night tonight I gaze into the sky sweet face sprinkled with freckles of stars. The crickets sing and spread their wings. Whose song, they ask, is most true? It’s true when the day fades there’s a special way that the sky is the brightest blue. Poppy Lowenthal Walsh, 12Minneapolis, MN Hannah Parker, 13South Burlington, VT
Poetry-Nature
The Mountain
I sit alone. The only thing I see is the mountain I always run into. Time. I am the only person that I know who has not seen black. I want the waves to hit me, but they miss. I will not force the wave, but it shall come to me. Because why stay in the white, when you have no yellow to be with you. For my white has turned black. The black will turn white. But the mountain will never stop. It will always stop me, until I am gone with the wave. Rhône Galchen, 11New York, NY
The Four Seasons
A golden leaf falls on Little Deer’s nose, he jumps around playfully, “Fall has come! Fall has come!” he calls. His father bellows, “We must go find more food or the cold white sheet will bury it all!” Little Fox jumps around in the white powder, that once had millions of flowers in it. Now it is cold and wet. He whines to his mother, “I must go play with Brown Bear!” His mother whispers, “You must wait till spring.” Spring has come! Little Horse is only a month old, yet he jumps as high as his mother. “Look! Look! I see a bush of daffodils!” He prances over to the bush and sighs, “Spring is here.” Two happy birds sing, “Summer has come! Food is plentiful, but we must eat lots because fall is soon to come.” It is fall again, Little Deer has grown up. Now he has his own mate and child. A fawn calls, “Fall is here! Fall is here!” He smiles at the fawn and calls, “We must go find more food or the cold white sheet will bury it all!” He sounds just like his father. Grace Jiang, 11Ontario, Canada Meredith Rohrer, 10El Cajon, CA
