Volume 3

Awards

Mountain Pastel - Carolyn Kimball

By Meaghan Toomey

Tumbling through sage and knapweed,

we laughed beneath ponderosa.

At seven years old

life held magic.

We searched for fae in vanilla bark

leaving rain boot imprints

beside the trickling creek.

My brother’s smile,

radiant,

illuminated the rainy mountainside.

We giggled on a moss-covered stone.

Muddy hands picked

musty yellow flowers

adults called weeds.

We called the ponderosa home

and the trees called us family.

I long to be seven,

dancing with my brother

without a care.

The Blooming Lotus - Sarah Jiang

By Ashton Libel

We were like two zinnias that summer,

growing under midwestern skies--

we were small; we didn’t have a voice.

We smiled out there beside the garden

growing under midwestern skies,

we knew that summer would be the last.

We smiled out there beside the garden

away from the grown-ups who called, “Time to leave!”

We knew that summer would be the last,

the last one we spent together

away from the grown-ups who called-- time to leave.

Neither of us wanted to be picked from the garden.

The last one we spent together--

we were like two zinnias that summer,

neither of us wanted to be picked from the garden.

We were small. We didn’t have a voice.

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