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Winterpoem

Icicles drip, snow swirls and whirls down on your head; feet drag and slip.

Scarves and gloves march off shelves and coats fly out of closets like comets towards waiting arms.

Snowballs zoom like cannon balls relentlessly attacking. Snowflakes land on tongues and snowballs land on faces. Tiny clouds form in front of scarves and everything is as if someone took glitter and sprinkled it around. No one can hear because every ear is covered, but if you could you would hear sleigh bells and carolers sing 'bout Noel.

Sylvia Hansen (11 yrs old)

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We are all corrigible. Jeffrey Pegram

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Waiting in Line

When you listen you reach into dark corners and pull out your wonders. When you listen your ideas come in and out like they were waiting in line. Your ears don't always listen. It can be your brain, your fingers, your toes. You can listen anywhere. Your mind might not want to go. If you can listen you can find answers to questions you didn't know. If you have listened, truly listened, you don't find your self alone.

~ Nick Penna, fifth grade ~

(In Poetic Medicine by John Fox)