My skin yearns for the sideways kiss
Of morning sun for
Lake droplets lifted
Off my skin by balmy,
Dandelion air.

And my laughter
Waits for dock picnics
Green mountain tops
And crowded swimming pools. 

Nose searching for
Watermelon slices
Garden herbs
Almost tasting
Backyard barbeque.
I await summer's joyous greeting.

But when it comes,
I will reminisce over  
Red-tipped noses  
Too rich hot chocolate
Cross country skis
And silver flurries. 

Wait for crisp air
Warm socks and sweaters
For soup and fireplaces. 
So is the seasons' curse.

Don't wait for summer
For snow
For red leaves 
Or flowers sprouting.

Venture out and discover
The unique season
That is today. 
 

I was walking in a grocery store
one day when I spotted 
two young girls with 
rambunctious brown buns
wedging their feet between
Breyers ice cream.

On the tippy top shelf lay
the last beaten box of raspberry popsicles
dripping with color and corn syrup
and ensnaring their eyes.

I walked over,
wary that the little one,
being insistently boosted from the bottom,
would topple down from the seven foot
shelves and crash into the nearby cantaloupes.

I said, 
"Hi. Want some help?
I can grab the popsicles if you'd like."

The big one gracefully dismounted,
polka dot skirt blossoming,
and pucked the younger one
clean off the shelf.

With a child's honesty, the little girl proclaimed,
"No. I don't like popsicles."

"Then what are you doing?"
I posed as the bigger one nudged the smaller-
the epitome of bossy big sister.

Each year, I make a chain of quotes to hang in my room for inspiration. Here are excerpts from this year! I found inspiration and quotes from all over the place.
 

I'm furious
And that's saying a lot for me
And I'm tired
Of this fight of climate and corporations
Oil and overheating
Melting and methane
Of people who care
Scrapping at the outskirts 
Of climate power. 

I'm 16
And like to cross country ski
In the woods behind my house
But when I'm 36
When I want to hike in the woods
With my kids
I'm afraid
There won't be any trees
When I want to teach them to ski
I'm afraid
There won't be any snow
And when I want to teach them
To protect this earth
I'm afraid
There will be nothing left to save.  

I can't hurtle through time
And guarantee those
Human rights will exist
20 years from now
I can't grab the world
With an outstretched arm
And paint it green again.

I'm 16
With ample years ahead of me
With ample passion and ideas
Burning in my chest

With waves crumbling on her back
She stands
With neck growing to the sky
And clouds dotting her eyes
She swallows the sun
And smiles. 

Her throat blisters like 
Swallowed ghost peppers
Tears squeeze from
Eyelids clamped shut
Her burning body
Screams for a shortcut
To dissipate the tempestuous fire.  

With raindrops flying from her back
Her heart smokes 
With wind prying her hair
From her head
She feels her blood warm
It whooshes through her veins
Amid a rising storm. 

Her body tenses and 
Strains under pressure
Light fills every nook
Of bodily space
Every cranny of personality
And light 
Streams down her face.

With feet in an angry sea
She stands
With head in hungry clouds
Fire erupts
From her fingertips
And sews sun into 
A world left barren.

The sky becomes her blanket

An olive laced wind dances
Across red shingled roofs
The sun aloof
In this tepid sort of evening.

Salt dots the air
Nearby evening prayer
Slips down golden hills
And settles in the vineyards.

Blue and white and ancient shimmer
Flutter from flag poles
Foggy in the glittery haze
The end of the day glaze.

The birds raise their voices
In honor of the falling sun
And so forth a friendship spun
A song of life and nature. 

Peace lies and the land sighs
In the infancy of a tranquil evening
Nestled by the sea. 

Parkinson’s disease can be caused by a variety of genetic mutations. One damages PINK1, a protein that sticks to the tops of damaged mitochondria, tagging them to be broken down. Spring of my sophomore year bio class I had the opportunity to dig into the genetic and biochemical mechanisms behind Parkinson’s disease. Armed with a school-issued Chromebook, a world of scientific papers lay at my hands. With the gifted of hours of free class time, I had the space to dissect the text, taking full advantage of Google and control find. Pencil sketches and teacher-scrawled questions guided me along the mind-blowing path of biology and my questions popped up like branches on a tree. For the first time, I had the freedom to follow those questions, self-designing research to fit my interests. I had stuck my feet into the river of personalized learning and was prepared to let it sweep me onward.