Elizabeth Pakaluk is a senior on track to receive a B.M. in Piano Performance and minors in Mathematics and Philosophy. She has not yet been published, but is an avid creator in the realms of creative writing, poetry, ceramics, fashion, and music. When she is not practicing Chopin etudes, you can find her bouldering, speaking Korean, or playing the penny whistle.
autumn's thunder brought the storm
fierce and fraught and fiery
pierced the oak and iv'ry
splintered, split, torched and torn
bent and broken, bark deformed
but a mother brought her babe
weary, worn and waned
rested foot upon the root
twas a bench
winter's blanket covered all
chill and cool and cutting
killed the old and budding
the wooden sculpture wrought in fall
set in stone with pallid pall
but a child covered her eyes
guarded from the splattered ice
the frosty oak was her disguise
became a fortress fortified
and when a truce at last arrived
dangled feet above the root
twas a bench
spring's verdure freed the life
sparking, sweet and spritely
branches blooming brightly
critters, creatures denned inside
escaped the oak, left dens behind
but a nervous youth freed untold love
plucked a stirring foxglove
with his lady on the log
set a knee upon the root
twas a bench
summer's fever fueled the air
hot and heavy, hanging
briery brambles brangling
choked the oak, refused to share
it's splintered shade now past repair
but a father fueled his saw
roaring, rearing, raw
cut bramble, bush, and claw
set his barrow on the root
gathered branch and twig and shoot
croaking, creaking, lost for loot
calloused fingers traced the grain
wired, wand'ring winding
mallet, chisel guiding
shavings shorn leapt from the plane
built the legs and then the frame
in the barrow once again
gentle artist traced a path
round and rough and new
placed his work amidst the dew
'neath the oaks and blue
carved a sign for those who passed
"mothers, babes, and children all
friends, lovers, creatures small
lay your foot upon the root"
and twas a bench