The mountains… So vibrant, so alive, yet still, Like a never ending oil painting, Hung from an ethereal sky. Discovery The Poetry of Life Mount Logan Middle School “Extending learning beyond the walls”

As I enter this secret place, The snow feels like my cold soul. My icy hands add white sparkles, While the sun shines on the golden river. The snow falls like a blanket of diamonds, As the wind blows wet, almost rain. The falling snow chills my spine, Yet wait, the sun peaks through!

Dully colored leaves releasing, Letting the rain pound them in defeat. The snow crystals, like shattered glass, Spread across the meadow. The tangled willows, huddled together, Swaying in a wave of fear. The distant mountains are covered, With the reminder of winter’s approach. Leaves falling, wind blowing, Wet almost rain. As I look down, the snow sparkles, Like a million stars. All I can hear is the cold river, And my own warm, beating heart. As I sit here it feels like coming home… For the first time.

I can hear the wonderful sounds, Of the river flowing like my warm blood. The wind whispers in my ear, Like it’s trying to tell me a secret. Birds singing an ethereal melody, Echoing all around. Snow sparkles like a thousand crystals, Fallen from the sky. New snow falls from the leafless trees. It feels like I am entering a different world. As I step onto the crispy, white snow, I hear birds singing in my soul. The fresh snow glimmers, Like scattered crystals. My gaze freezes to the view, Of the mountain grandeur.

The cream colored sky, Seems to close in on the Earth. I listen to the faint whisper of the wind. Birds, all around, chirping, As if they are in a singing class. I close my eyes, Feeling the chilly wind on my face. It feels good! An ancient tree stretches its arms, Attempting to reach the water below. I listen and hear the sound of the ocean, Passing through the trees. All around me I feel the coldness. The coldness of early autumn. Shades of blues, whites, yellows, grays… I realize it’s a whole new world now.

The colored leaves, reluctantly released, Like pages torn from a book. The trees watch sadly, Summer beauty flutters to the ground. The wind dancing by, Tossing them playfully into the air, Dropping them into the river, To be swept away. Trees, changing from summer green, Into a brilliant autumn yellow. A last hurrah to summer! The river dashing by, Like a gazelle, Being chased by lion of winter. Bare, sleeping branches hanging low, Like the bony fingers of an old man. All wait patiently for the return of spring.

The hyper swallows, Swiftly chasing each other. Their wings barely touching, The cold, peaceful stream. Drawing pictures on the water, Which instantly disappear, Then they return, As if they will never get tired. Over ripe berries shimmer, Sparkling in the noon day sun. Snow falls like gifts from angels, Sent millions of little kisses to Earth. A faint memory of the wind, Rushes through the trees. The grass will bow down, As its mighty master passes invisibly by.

A faint howl crept through the trees, Like a ghost in the hallway. I see beautiful willows bend, Turning all around me. Slowly, I stroll through the scent, Of a mystical juniper tunnel. There is no telling where nature, Will lead me next. The trees of fall are crisp, Their colors vibrant, almost alive. The river giggles with joy, As it splashes and plays. A slight breeze brushes by my face, And whispers, “I am free here.”