Who Art Thee, Thy Ask?

• Jye Cannon, Grade 8, Geelong High School
• Poetry
• 2011

Excellence Award in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

Harsh winds sweep thee fallen leaves
Drifting whilst whispering their deathsong in the breeze.
Cold mist surrounds the forest floor,
Blinding bypassers; biting until raw.
Frozen droplets shimmer; atmosphere divine,
Air sparkling yet cold at thee early-Winter time.
The sun, sickly pale, obscured by the clouds
shines a patchwork of opaque light upon thee ground.
Dead trees reach out longingly in twisted ways
for company, but instead waiting out their days.
Thee snow-capped mountains seem blue at distance
their encompassing moat of icy difference.
Unable to crash on the shore with the winds,
its frozen cover resists and strengthens within.
The indistinct cry of the hungry crow
As the seeds of ancient begin to sew.
Serenity passes through desert sands,
to snow and trees and foreign lands.
And though thee art everywhere as since birth
Thee art and will always be known as Earth.