The tracks of winter

Thursday, Dec. 12, 2019 at 7:30pm
Black Box Theatre, Main Street Landing, Burlington, VT

Winter Paint
By Emma Paris
Age 13
Putney, VT
 
When the first frosts come,
warning of what's to come,
the people sigh.
And when the first
snowflake challenges the air,
the people rush inside.
When the skin of snow finally
settles on the quiet ground,
the people stay inside,
but not me.
 
I sigh in marveling wonder at the cold
blankets of ice folding themselves
over the hills and valleys.
I rush outside to witness the first fall of snow.
I stay outside, the freezing wind
scraping my cheeks, brushing
them pink with her pastels.
 
Tracks follow tracks,
hunting the night through my yard.
All between the winter days and nights,
I sleep in a cocoon of waiting,
a butterfly evolving to warmth,
a time of recognition
to rest and regenerate.
 
And when the end of winter begins,
I listen to the music of the melting snow
Drip...drip...drip...drip!
Snow crashes in clumps to return to the earth.
I return too.
I let my hair down in the spring breeze,
sharing my joy,
loving and living through the ups and downs of humanity,
waiting for time to catch up.
 
As Fall is Stolen
By Ruth Knox
Age 10
Essex Junction, VT
 
The tree’s jewels are stolen,
the leaves already fallen are swept up
by the chilling breeze.
The barren trees become layered in snow
as the army of frozen snowflakes
fills the silvery sky with flurries of chalky white.
The warmth is shoved away
by the wind,
and the sun is stolen
from the graying sky,
earlier and earlier. 
As the earth orbits
further away, the only light left
is the crackling fire,
made not by the earth
but made by us.
As fall is stolen by winter,
everything changes.