Thinking about snow

Wednesday, Dec. 11, 2019 at 7:30pm
Black Box Theatre, Main Street Landing, Burlington, VT

Promise
By Chase Ehrlich
Age 13
Montpelier, VT
 
The brown grass crunches under your feet as you walk into the desolate field. All is silent. It’s that in-between time of year, when animals have burrowed into the ground, ready for winter, and frost covers the land. It’s the time of year when it’s too cold for autumn, but the snow has yet to fall.
 
Now, all seems dead. No flowers flourish under the bright sun, and no leaves rustle gently in the warm breeze. Instead, the flowers curl over, brown and fragile, and the leaves lie lifeless in their final resting places under the trees where they once thrived. The mid-afternoon sun is hidden behind a thick veil of clouds that spreads across the sky, trapping everyone under its reach in a cold, gray prison.
 
You blow into your hands in an attempt to warm them, but to no avail. The temperature is dropping. A lone crow lets out a long, solemn caw -- an attempt to fill the void of silence. You fix your hat and start toward the winding path that leads through the forest and, eventually, takes you home.
 
As you walk, you notice a single, brown leaf clinging to a thin branch. As you watch it, a cold breeze rushes past you, momentarily exciting the lifeless flora around your feet. The trees around you start swaying gently, and the thin branch finally lets go. The wind dies down. The leaf drifts to the ground slowly, the last remnants of autumn finally surrendering to the cold.
 
Suddenly, something stands out against the gray sky. You smile. An intricate array of delicate lines folds away from the center of a small, glistening flake. Your stomach loosens. You feel the world release the breath it had been holding onto for many months. The snowflake floats toward the ground lightheartedly, twirling through the air, and finally drifts calmly onto the ground. This small flake, seemingly insignificant, means so much more than just a small piece of ice. It’s a flake of promise.
 
Just Wondering
By Anna Dauerman
Age 12
Shelburne, VT
 
I can't wait for winter,
for the time when I wake up
and I hear my Mom tell me
that it's a snow day, 
when I can charge down the hallway,
and practically slam down 
my sister's door.
"Wanna cross-country ski?"
 
But, I'm just wondering,
which winter will be our last
good year of skiing?
Which will be the year,
where by the time that we
wake up, the snow will be slushy?
I'm just wondering 
if I have a kid, whether or not
they will be able to learn
to cross-country ski in the same
backyard that I learned from.
The backyard where I grew up
watching my sisters sled down hills,
making paths to ski on,
and building forts in the snow.
 
I'm just wondering
how it'll feel when I have kids,
the moment when they
look me straight in my eyes
and ask me what ever happened
to the beautiful woods.
I'm just wondering
why isn't there a mandatory
class about what is happening
to our Earth because
of human impact?
I'm just wondering 
why there aren't rules and laws
to protect our Earth from
the major destruction
we've caused.
 
My biggest question is,
what if there isn't an answer?
What if there is too much
carbon dioxide already
contained in our Earth?
I'm just wondering what you think
I'm supposed to tell the generation
that comes after me?
That I didn't do anything to help?
I don't think so.

But, I'm just wondering.