Calico Frost

A tacklehug

Running out to greet friends.

The feathery-light feeling

Of my friends' fingers at my waist, shoulders,

All grasping for some sort of an embrace.

A giant group hug

Bear hugs, too

There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.

A little girl looked up to the sky 

“So big and far away, it’s like that, why? 

I don’t know why you are 

The way that you are 

All my friends are eighth graders,

Or on the other team.

Aside from two,

Who I hope never tire of me

But probably already have.

All my friends are eighth graders,

Which means all my friends are leaving.

Find your footing on the ground 

Solid, like you know who you are 

Watch it soar through the sky 

Like a broken piece of the sun 

Shooting up past the stars 

Do the penguins care

about the one with orange beaks, an extra stripe? 

Do the giraffes mind 

that his neck is longer, that she has less spots? 

Because the humans do,