Poetry-Sense-of-Place

It is quiet there in the great oak tree by the brook, in the fields – and why shouldn’t it be? For it is morning – Dawn No sound comes to my ears but there is no such thing as silence. So I listen and I try to make out the not-silence. So I listen, and then I hear – the quiet whisper of the leaves in the great oak tree murmuring to the awakening world: Stand strong and steady, strong and steady – like the oak tree itself. I hear – the gentle tumbling of the brook over beyond that stretch of field the clear waters leaping and gurgling as they chortle: Fill with life, spirit, and love, life, spirit, and love – like the vibrant brook itself. I hear – the soft rustle of the tall, swaying grass in the wind. Breathing: Gentle and peaceful, gentle and peaceful – like the quiet grass itself. I hear – the faint calls of the birds warbling in the trees to the wan morning: Wake up! Wake up! and hear our song – their clear, silver voices rising to the sky in unified harmony. And I hear – the deep, golden sound of bells rolling low and unwavering over the rippling fields: Come, and start, this morning’s work – for there is much to do today! – and I slide from the leafy grasp of the oak but I know I will come back tomorrow – to listen to the rippling life of the world. Kate Choi, 12Seoul, South Korea

We drove over the hill In the dark lamplight night My grandma in front Full speed ahead The warm flowing breeze It showed me the way As the mauve sunrise Shown bright ahead Past the farm Watching the cows eat My grandma and me Drove swiftly away As the sunrise followed us It began to fade As the warm swift breeze turned cold And it scurried away That sweet sunrise left us all The town came clearer The people filing away They didn’t seem to notice My grandma and me They didn’t seem to see that beautiful things fade The rosy color of dawn spreads all over the sky, Photo by Julia Li Genevieve Gray Fink, 9Hoboken, NJ Julia Li, 12Mason, OH