In the winter, as we race to the garden that I call paradise,
the wind is blowing the new rye,
the trees are dropping their dead leaves like bombs,
and the water is gently descending through the rocks.
My dog and I hike through the woods
looking at the waterfall and the water
trickling down, so clear and fresh.
When I look close enough
I see raccoon and possum prints in the sand.
In my paradise no one is around
but the gentle breeze from a cloudless sky.
The scent of the new blooming pines
floats around me like colorful butterflies
and the sun casts shadows
that look like stick figures from the pine needles.
by Kara, 5th Grade
[photo by HelloAli via flickr]