White Lightning

Photo Courtesy of WikiMedia Commons

by Ryan V., 8th Grade

The cold, smooth-feeling ice and fresh fumes in the air almost makes you shiver while sending chills down your spine.  I look down and see my reflection, which sometimes does not seem to mirror me. If I was angry or sad I would slowly skate across the ice talking deep breaths, and when I close my eyes a new feeling of happiness would take the place of the bad things I want out of my head. Without ice I would be lost.

When I touch the ice I feel like I am a god looking over Antarctica.  The sweet music the ice makes when your cut you blades into it.  Sometimes I think about what it would be like to look up through the icy surface from below.  I can image seeing silver dashes of lightning glide across the surface. I could hear the sticks banging on the ice and the bodies smashing against the hard, cold surface.

When I look at the ice I see myself standing face to face and see little pieces of crystal being set free by the wind.  I visualize the cracks in the ice acting like tiny little canyons.  I see friends having the time of their lives playing pond hockey. “Puck, Puck!” the kids say as they dash across the ice.”GOAL!” Suddenly their gloves are like birds in the air.

The ice can clear your mind and set you free when you step on it with skates to play before a game.  I feel like nothing can stop me from being the best I can be. When I get on the ice I feel like the only thing controlling me are my legs. I look up and see a giant cloud in front of my face. I close my eyes and I feel like I am in a whole different world. I think to myself, if I die, I want to be playing hockey.

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Awareness

-by Olivia B., 7th Grade

Look up to where the trees meet the sky.  See the beautiful clouds, like dove’s wings, embracing, covering the Earth, set against the dark, twisted branches.  Snow is falling lightly to the ground, softly, hushed.  The world is asleep.

See the crystallized branches, dripping with icicles, their diamonds.

Smell the balsam fir, that unique scent, spicy and minty and wintry and warm.

Stand back a little from the crowd, and listen.  What do you hear?

Silence is not quite as silent as you thought, is it?

Feel the icy cold, as your breathing makes little puffs in the air.  It makes your lungs freeze when you draw breath.

You hear a branch snap.  The crowd is moving on, and you must follow – but follow slowly.

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Ice

Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

A Poetic Response to Nature’s Classroom

by Talia M., 7th Grade

 

Tiny stories

Embedded in ice

Memories

Lying in wait

Begging to resurface again

They call to me

Showing

My reflection

Playing tricks

Things dancing

In the ice

Telling me stories

Of seasons past

Maybe

Someday

The ice will tell mine.

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