A Vermonter can't explain
To anyone else
How they can tell when it's about to 
Snow.

The sky seems full,
Somehow,
Like it just took a huge breath and is just waiting
Waiting 
To let it out,
Blowing puffs of small magic
Down from the sky.

A Vermonter knows
When it is about to snow.
The world is expectant
The ground is frozen and grey.
But I wonder,
As I stare at the sky and see the silver blanket over the earth,
Perhaps it's really
Just a Vermonter
Who snaps their fingers and says,
"Now,"
That makes the snow fall.

I wish to eat the moon
To feel it's smooth, cold-pudding like taste on my tongue.
It would slip around my mouth like a cool cheesecake,
Like milk chocolate.
It would quench my hunger with the easiness and softness of a spoon of oatmeal,
Washed down with a glass of milk.

I wish to drink the stars
To taste them dripping down my throat
Warm and foggy as hot chocolate
On a cold winter's evening.
Each sticky-smooth drop would ease through my body,
Relaxing me,
Soothing me.

I wish to eat the grandest meal ever eaten,
Sitting upon Venus's rings,
Watching the world spin around
And around. 
Watching a shooting star zip through the sky.
I'd catch it in my fingers
And gulp it down
Bright and spicy as a piece of shrimp,
Then close my eyes and float down along the Milky Way, in a bed as smooth as a snowdrift. 

I wish to spread my hands through the galaxies,

Your long soft hair was in two buns on the top of your head
Like I've tried to make my hair do sometimes. 
It trailed down in some places, escaping the bonds but someone it looked
That much sweeter
The top of your scalp was scattered with glitter
that spread slowly down your back.
Your long tie-die shirt with the too-long sleeves was just about perfect,
The light colors- pink, yellow, light blue- swirling together in a cotton candy mix. 
You had your big black fan that you would sometimes spread out at random moments and then flash a smile.
And it may sound like I have a crush you but
I really don't.
You just looked
Kinda
Amazing.

 

I wrote this because we might be moving next summer.

The white paint
Still shines brightly and 
If anyone dared to paint it another color
I wouldn't recognize it.
All of the rooms are as familiar as 
An old baby blanket
Keeping me safe
And warm.
It's cluttered,
But messy isn't really the right word
Because everything about it is neat
If you know where to look.
Each piece of furniture
Means something different, something
Right.
Every time I see the mosaic above the stove
I remember the fight we had about keeping it or not.
My dad and my sister wanted it,
And my mom and I didn't.
It's still there, though.
And I'm always eternally glad that
We kept it.
The living room has the feeling of 
Many Christmases spent in front of the fire.
I'll see a dog toy on the floor and remember how crazy we thought it was

The wet juice

From the strawberry

Red

Dripped down her chin

A small piece of happiness, but

All the same

Happiness

Is the joy of living.

Do you take joy from the brush of ink across the page,

Swirling in its own ecstasy?

Remember that

Words written in stone one thousand stars ago

Can find their own meaning

In the stars today.

And if a little boy dreams of reaching his nebula some day,

Why stop him?

See what we can do.

Watch us.

Hush, child.

I am trying to tell a story

One thousand stars old.

Once there was a little girl who

Did what she was told and sat with her hands in her lap,

Primly,

Perfectly.

Now, good night, deary.

But-

We say

Staring up at the stars above our window

The street is long and winding
And there are so many shops to choose from. 
All with quaint swinging signs on the side, creaking on their hinges. 
Two apartment buildings sit side by side on the street,
A clothesline strung between them. 
Someone creaks open a window, and yells across the street
"Hey! Can I borrow a flower pot?"
You smile, then continue on your way. There's a small ice cream shop that you decide you want to visit, so you head in that direction. 
The bell on the door tinkles as you walk in. It smells of vanilla and chocolate. There's a large notice on the black board that says,
"Today's special! Blackberry-Chocolate sundae!"
Small metal tables are set around the shop, with curling legs and pink and peach accents. You sit down at the counter, then look at the jukebox and smile. A few minutes later "Hey Jude" is blasting from the speakers. 

A clink and splash 
From a full glass of water
Gets my senses started.
I watch the
Big glass with green stripes
Around it 
Avidly
Wondering and 
Knowing
Why a simple glass can get me tingling.
I know why.
Water. 
At the very thought of this word
I'm pulled 
First to the ocean
Crashing
Melodic waves
Lap the shore
Reminding me of warm 
Sand
And cool
Water. Floating among the salty, open sea
I feel more mysefl than ever. 
Zip... and I'm in 
The above ground pool 
With flecks of grass in it
Splashing
Swimming like
A seal, smooth
Like cream. 
Again, a change 
And I have been transported 
To the lake
The cold tingling
The slide off the dock
The shouts of ectasy.
The pool again
Then, the ocean
Back to the lake
And then with a whoosh...... 
I'm staring at the 

The glow of the lamplight illuminated her face
As she worked diligently on her essay.
Not small minded
But small
She scratched away with her pencil 
Leaving traces
Smudges
On the paper.
Finally 
The 
Clock
Donged.
Her face lit up with excitement.
The girl put down her lined piece of paper,
That looked like a jail for words.
She took out
A piece of blank paper
Creamy 
White
And began to write.
"The glow of the lamplight illuminated her face..." 
 

Please read this. It is so important to me that this story be told. I know it's long, but it's the most important thing in my life. 

When I first took the book off the shelf, I didn't know what it would begin. I didn't know how attached to these characters I would become, and I didn't know what tears of agony I would cry when I knew that I would never know them. It all began with a book.