Living down by the creek
No storm, nor lighting can uproot me.
If caution is the wind passion is the sea
Are we all of nature’s wildest things?
My mother is a strong oak tree
My father is the sky
Brother is the sea
What makes you believe you can harvest me?
You can find me in all colors, maroon, yellow and green.
I can grow in the meadow
Harness the breeze
Nature’s only daughter, as free as can be
I can grow where the land goes
Like river can become the sea
Petals like silk
Grass soft, upon the hill
In lavender, rose, and blue
Shades of youth
The wolves are singing
The birds are shouting
In the wildest symphony
--Zoe W., 9th-12th Grade