/   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
September/October 2007

By Laine Bruzek

I lie on the grass,
My back on the soft earth,
Wind quietly whistling
Through the tall oak behind me
I watch the sky
And as the clock spins
The sky does also,
The clouds passing through
On their way
To the rest of the world
Gently waving their shape-shifting fingers
And floating away
The sun finishes its continual arch
And shows off its silent brilliance as it
Prepares to slip below the horizon
Its light piecing the rainbow on the blue canvas sky
Like an enormous jigsaw that
Just like the clouds
Shifts every day, then fades to blue
A deep, restful blue held back by the tiny pinpoint stars
That emerge from their day of sleep
And wink at the last of the sun
Then turn respectfully again towards the moon
Their moon.
Their hushed lullaby a soft glimmer
As the moon holds itself with such posture,
Such presence.
Carrying out its midnight duty.
And as I breathe it in, I feel like one of them.
Goodnight, I whisper to them.
And I truly am happy to be alive.

Watching Laine Bruzek

Laine Bruzek, 12
Wheaton, Illinois

About the Author

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