Behind broken windows

You can slip

In the misty forest

Gripping faces


In a puddle

The naked hawks

Sad song

Blue silver marbled stars

Bare feet broiled in the flame

Rippled smoke around the empty bank

Watery, water spiders,

Buzz the evening song

I won’t know.

But the birds will.

The orange and black balloon man

Dodges the breathing creature

Whiskers appear on strawberries and acorns.

Crackling grass laughter kills the witch doctor.

Two feet high inside eggshells I listen

Pea pods and peach seeds huddle for comfort

Once there were clenched hands that thankfully let go.

By Elizabeth Sabine

Tripp Middle School

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