a kiwi soft with suntanned skin from
what seems like a lifetime of being outside,
you swim probably unlike a bird because birds don’t swim
but it’s sweet to imagine – you
as a little round bird who cannot fly,
only swim, maybe,
& trace circles on the surface of lake champlain
with the brown pointed beak of a sailboat rudder
under the bluest of green kiwi skies.
i write poetry on lined paper
in class & only half pay attention, rounded letters
barely containing all i want to say. i use green marker
& stare dreamily into the yellowed margins,
i have a couple of pieces of lined paper in my school binders that i use to write daily short poems. i hope you enjoy reading some of them!!
child of vermont,
the snow thickens the sky
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