The heavy summer air
Sweet smell of grass
I sit here in my chair
Waiting for the time to pass

Memories of the past
Dancing through my mind
It goes by too fast
And will never rewind

The carefree days of childhood
Now forever gone
Coming days of adulthood
Starting at the dawn

The future unknown
Waiting for me
Afraid of being alone
In this turbulent sea

There was once a spruce tree in the midst of a forest, tall and beautiful, old and wise. The spruce tree stood for many years. Birds would nest in its branches, their song echoing through the forest and imbedding in the fibers of the old spruce.

For many years the spruce stood, taking in the sounds and silence of the forest. Until one day, when it was very old and its day on earth were near their end, some people came and cut it down. The sound of the fallen tree echoed through the forest--and there was silence.

(To follow the tradition, of sorts, that’s been started, I thought I’d like to write a personal version of Claire’s and Mike’s essays...
Happy Spring, everyone!)

-

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A HOME-SCHOOLER WHEN...

…Learning isn’t an obligation- it’s a desire.

…You can memorize your library card number in twenty seconds- and your sisters’ too.

…You’re reading one novel for Literature, another for Additional History, a third for Additional Religion- and, but only sometimes- a fourth for Leisure Reading.

Wispy clouds fill the sky,
The blue of night fills the air.
The moon is gazing like a great eye,
The white stars glimmering fair.
Staring up in wonder,
At the vastness of it all,
Its like a spell I'm under,
I begin to drift and fall.
Falling into Sleep's beckoning arms,
The world now seems so far,
The night now has me under her charms.
Into a dream world I go,
Into its golden gates I pass,
The warm colours around me begin to flow,
How I want this dream to last.
I know this dream will indeed end,

Now I know that this seems to be an odd statement for a teenager to make, but bear with me as I explain my reasoning behind the statement.

tired

The spray glimmers in the early sunlight
and the frothy, foamy waves splash in camaraderie.
Verdant vibrancy exults on the nearby shore.
The spluttering, rumbling drone of our motorboat
drowns the hoarse calls of seagulls,
swooping lazily above.
Soon we see her—jewel of cities—
wooden docks, stone piers, tinkling masts,
gilded domes, needle-like spires. . .
Venezia.

The Voyage of 'Untouchable'

The Voice of the Flame

Touch me if you dare
Hold me gently, see me burn
Dancing, ancient rhythms unfold
The element where energy and reality unravel
In the flame

Old as the oldest stars
Younger than the smallest child

This is a poem I wrote for our beloved dog, Toby, who died on February 29, 2004

Even though we loved you,
I guess you had to go.
Even though you're just a dog,
We really loved you so!

Even though we'll miss you,
And no other pup could take,
The place where once you sat with us,
We'll try to keep our pace.

Even though we'll sorrow,
And grieve for you right now,
One must get over little things,
That don't seem little now.