Simplicity
She beckons me--
whispers
from behind
the tiny pebbles
at the side
of the road, as they
scatter
when cars drive by.
Or from the moss
that grows
between
the slabs of
flagstone
outside
my house.
She calls me out
like a swim in the bay
of Minocqua
on a hot summer
afternoon.
Her beauty
wanders after me,
following me
in my footprints
when I walk
through the snowy
pines
in my backyard.
She stares at me,
like a cold glass
of water,
asking me
to drink
after a four-mile run,
or a bike ride
through
the Bearskin Trail.
***
How difficult it is to grasp her.
I wish we could be one--
to flow freely
down the Flambeau River:
gently
over sharp rocks
and slowly
through dams.
To rustle
in prairie grasses,
as their tips
wave
to us
under
the morning sun.
Ben Z. 11th grade |
Poetry
Like a tightrope-walk;
swaying hundreds of feet
above ground.
No safety nets or supports.
Never look down--
only forward,
at the treacherous wire ahead.
How friendly danger can be.
Ben Z. 11th grade |
|
