Skipping Stones magazine

Vol. 15, No. 4

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New Day

Pale above a dark horizon line,
Shadowy purple in the early morning haze,
Above the canvas of brilliant colors,
Sprinkled like dust.
Like a million sparkling stars,
Pinpricks through the ancient
Canvas of the heavens.

Warmth shines down in distant lands,
On white sand beaches and tropical palms.
The lands where roads,
Like ribbons of smoke,
Chase over the distant hilltops,
And fragrant spices
Simmer in the warmth of the sun.

Soon all these pleasures,
Pleasures that without
A new day are nothing.
Soon all the joys of
A new day will be ours.

-- Sarah Miller, 14, Camden, Maine.


Small, single, dandelion
Standing in a field of pink.
Looking out on to the wide, wide world
Looking for some kind of link.
Watching the mountains rise and fall
Wondering why he is so small
Seeing the towering lupine
On their tall rosy, purple, white vines.

-- Sophia Bouwsma, 10, Taiyuan, P. R. China.

Black Sea

Navy blue describes your essence.
Unbearable describes your depth.
Silence describes your voice.

Your winter fog emits your name.
Your arms are open doors,
Welcoming the presence of surrounding rivers.
Your massive body creates a shadow of its own.

And even though you are dark as night,
Your friendly waves wish me a good night.

-- Briana Carter, 11th grade, Tampa, Florida.

Do Not Fear

Don't fear the mountain, mighty and all.
Great wonders await, if you'd just risk the fall.

Don't fear the waves that rumble and roar,
The waters will calm if you sail beyond shore.

Don't fear the storm upon the wind's wings.
Healing and clean is the rain that it brings.

Don't fear the shadows that lurk everywhere.
Shadows just mean a light shines somewhere.

-- Alice Yu, Chinese American, Gibsonia, PA.

The Mountain

Hang on to your hats and we will stride,
up the steep, rocky mountainside.

Deer and rabbits will watch us go by,
As we leap over boulders with a merry cry.

We will rest in a valley with many scented flowers,
Where trees stand solid like cold, gray towers.

With small, white daisies we will weave a crown,
Then present it to a sad friend to wipe away a frown.

From dawn to dusk we will stay on that mountain,
I'd take that over a dinner seated by a fountain.

Every little detail will stay with you forever,
A day up on that mountain, you will definitely remember.

-- Patrick DeYoung, 11, German American, Portland, OR.


Its slender curved legs
Tap against the ceiling
Decorating it with white thin string.

Its body is pushed by the wind in the air in circles
Its tiny hairs stick up glistening
Like green grass with morning dew.

The spider lays small white circles of life
Tiny little dots squirm out
Like black snow coming from the sky.

-- Andrew So, 15, Asian American, New City, NY.



Skipping Stones Magazine
Volume 15, No. 4, Page 21

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