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and hit ground.
I stare at tree.
It stares back green.           (Come) LOOK!
Kite is peeking at the sky.
I open the package. (It is the present.)
I feel the now again.
My legs are hot—
doesn’t matter. Can you
find tree? Sky crystal kisses me.
Snow is moving under my feet
like a whisper. I soar like
lights pushing out from you.
I can’t tell; world is moving so slowly,
I think I am flying. I move my head
from side to side
and go back in.

Rainer Pasca
Rainer Pasca, 14
Bay Shore, NY

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