UNTITLED
In the middle of the night, a snowstorm came with claws
outstretched. It caught the clouds and tore them out of the
sky. The clouds broke into a million pieces, like shattered
glass, and flew into the air.
When the storm passed, the bits of clouds fell softly out
of the sky, and onto the ground, creating a blanket of snow.
The fierce storm was gone, but it had left a reminder
of its power. A bitter cold.
Anyone who stepped outside would get stung by invisible
bees. Buzzing softly, they strayed to the road, creating
a thick layer of ice.
When the sun comes out, it melts away the clouds. It creates
new clouds. But there is still the cold. The bitter cold.
- Natalie Wong, Age 11, Lane County, Oregon
PARTNER POEM
ALL WE HAVE TO GO BY
As if I had dreamed the snow
into falling,
I wake to a world
blanked out
in its particulars,
nearly erased.
This is the silence
of absolute whiteness–the mute
birds nowhere
in sight, the car
and animal tracks
filled in,
all boundaries,
as in love,
ambiguous.
Sometimes all we have
to go by
is the weather:
a message
the snow writes
in invisible ink,
what the sky means
by its litmus
colors.
Now my breath
on the chilly window
forms a cloud
which may turn to rain later,
somewhere else.
-Linda Pastan
ASK THE POEMS
1. How does the weather make the world unfamiliar?
2. How can unfamiliarity be beautiful?
3. How can unfamiliarity be scary?
4. In what ways can weather change form?
5. What are you showing me about things that can’t be seen?
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