I’m sitting at my kitchen table with my school looking up at me with disdain, as I watch the millions of snowflakes fall one by one onto the frozen ground. There is something so enchanting about how the snow falls, and whenever I see it I stop and try to watch each one find its place. They seem to be searching for it as they drift and finally they see it and float down with white gracefulness to land on the exact spot.
     I wonder, how many people stop to contemplate the little things in their life. Like the snow.

These are two poems I wrote for my creative writing class. We had to take seven of the poems in our collection, and imitate them, seeing where we could go with it...

(imitation of Twilight: After Haying by Jane Kenyon)

“Summer Storm: After Planting”

Yes, the sun falls over

the sky’s arch; and yes, today

must give way to tomorrow;

what else could it do?

**A short story... hope the ending isn't too confusing. Enjoy.**

There was no moon that night. Aislin always remembered how the sky looked, for the stars still burned as bright as ever in her mind even years later, but there was always that empty space where the moon should have been.

A figure stood alone on the top of the dwarves' mountain-fortress.  He was watching the sun sink into the west, a globe of fire among cushions of purple.  Around him -- north, south, east -- all was dark.  A crescent moon rose in the dusk of the east, the same sliver that had shone down upon a far away fairy wood -- almost 14 years ago now.  The same boy looked up at it, marveling at its mystery.  He heard the trees rustling in a cold wind far below, whispering secrets to each other.  This was Eltar's favorite place to be, and he often came up on an evening, to rest and think.  Tonight he w

"WYGATE’S USED BOOKS," read the giant, fanciful letters on the sign. Just beneath it hung another, in a plainer, more subdued print: "HELP WANTED."
"Nothing to lose," I muttered honestly, shrugging, and walked inside.
A bell on the door tinkled as I entered. I wished it would be silent so that I could observe while unobserved myself. I’m a quiet person. It’s the way I work best.

Peace on Earth

            Hakizimana took a deep breath and tugged on the bell rope. The swinging great bronze bell nearly pulled him off the ground. Bong…bong…He released the rope, letting the tolling bell slow to a gentle whisper. As he stared at the floor, he drifted back into memories. Screams and the clash of machetes echoed in Hakizimana’s mind.

“Peace?” he buried his head in his hands. “No, Lord, I do not have peace. How can I when the floor is stained with the blood of my brothers in you?”