Winter's Past

Author's Note - I wrote this night during a blizzard. I had walked outside and into the street, and then turned to look back at the house and saw my footprints in the snow. It was just a very magical moment that inspired me to write this piece.

For just this one moment
The whole world stands still
Me and the snow are the only things moving
I realize how beautiful the world is
When it is sleeping
And how wonderful it is
When the snow is cast for just one tiny second

Under a streetlamp
And how during that tiny second,
It turns gold

I notice

How even though the wind is blowing,
Sending whirlwinds of snow around me,
It never makes a sound
And how the snow is so clumsy in the air
Yet it never fails,
To land so gracefully
And to no avail,
Is quieter than the wind

My heart comprehends that,

With each step I take

Leaves another footprint

Behind me

An impression that seems so permanent

Yet, in the morning

This moment that seems so real to me,

Will be gone

Known to only me and the snow

When the people of this world wake up

The footprints long gone,

My past,

Lost in the snow's delicate beauty

And I will have left

Quieter, quieter
Than the wind and snow

The Duck Squirrel

One lovely day in the summer, Morgan Patterson and me were sitting in my front yard talking and enjoying the sun when we heard this really odd noise. We just ignored it at first, but then it got louder and we were like "Oh my god, what is that?" It was kind of like a mix between a duck and a noise a squirrel makes. It sounded like it was coming from my neighbors yard, so we decided to go see what it was. I took the sidewalk and walked around the outside of their yard, while Morgan went straight through it. Their yard isn't really that big, so it didn't take us very long to walk across it. We were standing there, listening for the noise when we heard it again and saw that it was coming from a squirrel perched high in a tree a few feet away. We were standing there laughing at the squirrel because it made such a weird noise when all of a sudden it saw us. Now, usually if a squirrel sees people it would run up the tree, but this one started to run down the tree AT us. So of course, being the girls we are, we screamed and started running. I ran out of the yard and down the street on the sidewalk. I reached my yard and turned just in time to see Morgan run smack into the other tree in my neighbors yard. Her shoulder hit it, and her whole body flipped and she landed on the ground. I started laughing so hard, and Morgan just kept lying there. As for the squirrel, we have never seen it, or heard it, again.

In the Night

Author's Note: This was the first poem I wrote and I was experimenting with my poetic side and the structures of a poem.

In the night,
Ghostly shadows tower over the living,
Shutting out the light
Like shades pulled down over the sun
A light bulb slowly dying
Huge hands flick off the switch

Watching for the hint of pale blue,
The time for them to fade,
Hang above this spinning top
A million shining lights,
Pinpointing their place among the sheer blackness



Crickets chirp out the rhythm of the night,
Joined by the noises of darkness,
As the giants of the woods
Wait for the glint
Of the emeralds strung off their arms



And as night's hands reach to cover the lights of towns and cities,
The sleek and cool blanket of nature
Soothes those who are of the dark
As they reveal themselves
Only to be once again hidden by what happens
In the night

Bonfire

Author's Note: This piece is a free writing piece straight from my journal. It was of a personal experience I had, and it brought back great memories that I thought would be fun to share with the readers.


The crackle of the flames licking up the side of the metal pit fills the silent night air, creating an orange glow on all of our faces. We sit huddled up on benches, over-sized blankets on our laps; the corners trailing to the ground where our feet lay upon the cool pavement. A slight breeze blows against our faces, wafting in the nighttime smells of the dew settling upon the grass and the leaves' crisp, and damp smell. Bright stars twinkle overhead, visible for miles all around. We reminiscence about old jokes, and laugh at how silly the scariness of the movie that had us hiding under our hands just mere hours ago seems in this atmosphere; as if something terrible couldn't exist within the sphere of orange glow around us.
I stare up at the sky and feel the heat of the fire flood my cheeks and warm my cold nose. I wrap the blanket tighter around myself, balling my hands into fist with the thick material stuck between my fingers and pressed tightly against my palm; trying to rid them of the numbing sensation.
Suddenly a marshmallow falls off the end of someones rod, tumbling down into the red flames below it. We all sit quiet for a moment, but then erupt into laughter; shaking silence from our shoulders and soon the mood of our circle melts away the cold. Our laughter and the smell of marshmallows takes the place of the silence, and we enjoy the warmth and fun until the flames die out.