Carved, crooked peaks outline themselves against a Yellowing sky, Deep crags littered with fertile eggs Cawing to the firming moon, We flap between their statuesque Shoulders, draped in heavy fog They don’t dance Their shadows do, Trembling freely outside of the rocks’ impenetrable cases, Sharing secrets with the sand, A peppered canvas, Which formed when The smeary stars Cracked and crumbled We gulls fly, The stones too stiff To crane back their necks And see us, Swooping, whooping, Following an invisible course Sliced into the sky Eden Amital, 13San Francisco, California
January/February 2010
Plant a Thimble
Today’s the day we’re going to the doctor, and I’m hiding in my tree. I beat my way through the little abandoned plot, the tall dry grass and thickets of clover flowers tickling my bare, dusty legs. Late summer, and the air’s thick with palpable, golden heat, the deep blue sky curving away above my head. I push through the long grass to the small spot I’ve cleared away around my oak tree, decorated with chips of colored china, chains of metal bottle caps, and little sculptures of smooth gray rocks the size of my palm, balanced precariously one on top of the other. I hike one bare foot up in the crook between the two main branches of the tree and pull myself up to my favorite branch, the tallest one that’s thick enough to bear my weight. I pat the tree. I’m high, too high, but I know I can’t fall. A light breeze lifts my dark braid from my neck for a moment, and I smile. The tree won’t let me fall. “Hi, tree,” I tell it, stroking its mossy bark. “We’re going to the doctor today.” The tree rustles its leaves softly in response. “Personally, I’m dreading it,” I say, a great sighing poof of a sentence. The street is heavy with silent heat. I feel like my tree and I, we’re the only ones alive. I spot a small daisy, blown into the tree’s ensnaring branches by an afternoon wind. I pluck it out of the tree’s grasp and tuck it behind my ear. I feel like my tree and I, we’re the only ones alive I sigh and hug the tree. I don’t want to let go, don’t want to go to the doctor. I stroke the tree a moment, and calm myself, and feel, for a moment, serene. I turn my gaze towards the harsh and knowing sky and whisper a few lines out into the world. Plant a thimble a lock of hair moldy gloves of lace; Grow a dimple with great care right there on your face. The tree nods in approval. I grin and say, “You liked that? No one else did. Not even my writing teacher.” And then I hug the branch and whisper to my tree, in thoughts. I tell it, half reassuring myself, that somewhere far across the world, someone heard my poem. Emma T. Capps, 12San Carlos, California
Every Soul a Star
Every Soul a Star, by Wendy Mass; Little, Brown Books for Young Readers: New York, 2008; $15.99 “…the sun will get erased from the sky, the planets will come out to greet us, the birds will stop singing, and a glowing halo of light will flutter like angels’ wings above our heads. Except, of course, if it rains.” I recommend this book to anyone who likes a book with a good plot, feeling and humor; this book has it all, and great characters. Three very different people tell this story of an eclipse, friendship, and the difficulty of change. Ally has lived her whole life at Moonshadow campground. Her family has been living for one day for almost a decade. When the day comes, the moon’s shadow will cross in front of the sun, creating a solar eclipse that will last a few mere minutes. Hundreds of people, eclipse chasers and tourists alike, will come together to witness the natural phenomenon. But when A-clique and fashionable Bree is dragged along with her family to take over the campground, both girls resist. Ally wants nothing to do with the city, where smog and light pollution make only the brightest constellations visible, and Bree only wants to go back home to her pool, best friend, and life with the “popular girls” at her school. So together Ally and Bree try to get their parents to reconsider and stay where they were before the eclipse comes, and Ally has to leave and Bree has to stay. Through it all, Jack is invited by his seventh-grade science teacher to see the eclipse with a tour bus full of people. He also has to help Mr. Silver with a project involving finding an exoplanet on a faraway star. Jack only came with to get out of going to summer school and would much rather spend time flying in his dreams than looking at stars. But Jack, Ally and Bree are going to like looking at our very own star, the sun, when the moon’s shadow crosses over it. My aunt gave me this book when I was visiting her by myself for the first time. I was a little uneasy at the thought of being alone for five days, not to mention miles and miles away from home. This book was very nice to read late at night and early in the morning when everyone was sleeping or doing something else. I connected with the feeling of not knowing what I was supposed to do or what I wanted to do. And being homeschooled I knew exactly how Ally felt when fashionable Bree came and ridiculed her for her unbrushed hair and baggy clothes. I live out in the country and I always had time to go outside and play in the woods or look at the stars instead of doing homework or talking on the phone. I didn’t know much about civilization till later in life, like Ally, and I still really don’t care if my shirt matches my shorts. But now I also know how Bree feels, trying to fit in all the time with my friends or finding a new identity or what I am supposed to do in this world. And Jack is totally out of his element when he goes to Moonshadow, and I often feel out of it too. Also, I am kinda shy, and I know the feeling of not being able to find the right words to say something. I think anyone can relate to at least one character in this book, and it’s definitely worth reading. As Mr. Silver says, soon you’ll be ending every conversation wishing good star viewing. Wishing everyone clear skies! Danica Lee, 13Sanford, North Carolina
