Calling

Author's Note - I wrote this after a walk I took through a prairie somewhere up north. The scenery was beautiful and really calming so it inspired me to write this poem.





















This moment, so fresh--
crisp;
serene and peaceful

Wanting this moment to last,
to last forever,
to never end,
never change

Slight breezes blow,
cool and soft --
but not changing the way the sun warms our skin from the cloudless blue sky

Hand stretched out to run my fingers through the tall grass --
soft brown --
reaching up to touch the edge of the sky

Long stems waving in the wind --
sending a friendly greeting to me;
the breeze sending a hello of its own,
weaving around me, through me

As we walk,
I look around me, seeing the trees on the other side of this sea --
pale browns and tans --
barren against the blue of the sky

Reminding me
of how,
as new things say hello,
others say goodbye

I look all around me --
really look at all that is surrounding me --
and can't help feeling the corners of my mouth pull upwards

For when I leave,
and return home,
and fall asleep tonight,
I will wake up
the calling that pulled me to this place,
this place of peace and serenity;
the promise of happiness,
joy,
will still be.

The Dream

Author's Note: In this piece I was experimenting with different techniques, styles, and formats. It was orignally a paragraph of just free writing, but the writing fit more into a poem format so this is how it turned out.


White crystals falling gently to the gorund --
frosting the early morning grass with a different kind of dew
As the cool substance hits the ground --
once green and lush --
it slowly starts to build up
into a thick layering of wonder and beauty
The sky --
still starry from the night before --
begins to brighten;
pale purples and pinks,
oranges and yellow --
finally to a pale, pale blue
Being in this world full of tiny white flakes --
descending ever so softly to kiss the ground --
is like being inside a dream
A dream so real,
you can even feel the flakes landing on your skin,
catching on your eyelashes,
encasing you in a cool,
white blanket --
softer than anything in the world
Your heart feels lighter than air,
floating up towards the sky
Then it stops beating all together --
and this dream becomes reality.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn Project

To make this image bigger, click on it.