Hand in Hand, No More

I remember the crooked jackknife creed,
The apple blossoms that shared birth with the sun.
The night that faded on and off so quickly so unexpectedly
Like a light switch in the sky.

And twilight that barely illuminated
The white rabbits scurrying for burrows
Before the coyotes come out to hunt.
The gasping wind, grinding against and branches
That seemed to break even the sun.

I remember the pink sky in the morning
That softened into baby blue
Matching the orange-raspberry sun
Making me want to taste the sky.

I remember the old log in the forest that we used like a safe
We filled the opening with snow in the winter
And carved a keyhole with a piece of bark
And forges a key out of icicles.
We kept our things in there, you and I.

I remember the soft spring breath
Whispering to the grass.
Responding in dance,
The grass appreciated vicarious movement.

Do you remember gazing up
Through the trees
Bordering the four sides of the sky?
Kingdoms hidden in the vertices,
The wisdom of the fox, the agility of the mouse
The greatness of the eagle, and the fire of the cardinal
Each an angle in its own shape
A beat in its own rhythm
Creating the square of the valley.
Do you remember the earth?

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Alex Dodson, age 13
2008 Finalist
Sarasota, Florida
Booker Middle School
Teacher: Joanna Hapner