There I was, third and goal, four yards away from the touchdown. We are one touchdown away from winning, but were on defense. The other team snaps the ball and hands it to their running back. He tries to jump over the defensive line but I come and knock the ball out of his hands. The ball goes into my hands and I get up and run.
I get passed all of the players on the other team. All of the coaches and players on the sideline are freaking out. I get the touchdown to tie the game. I watch my kicker get out on the field.
He snaps the ball and kicks it. It curves and hits the post and goes in. Our team wints the game. Everyone runs on the field to celebrate. I hold the trophy and I wake up in my bed, holding my pillow. I get out of bed and mumble to myself, "If only that was real."
As I hiked over the hill, I could see the sadness that fills. The Old Dairy Barn. As we walk across, the building that falls. The Old Dairy Barn. As we see nails through wood, that aren't looking so good. The Old Dairy Barn. As the lumber wood shrinks, and happiness sinks. The Old Dairy Barn. Fire starting small, to nothing at all. The Old Dairy Barn. The grass is burnt too, and the smoke flew. The Old Dairy Barn. As I leave this site, I don't feel so bright. The Old Dairy Barn.
Fire is gorgeous and majestic. It helps us keep warm and helps us live. But like most things, it has a dark side. It burns up people's hopes and dreams. Fires are wonderful and also a destroyer. It puts people in tears. Fire is a wonder of the world. You never know what it will do next.
New York City is underwater. There is no shore anymore, there are no banks on the Hudson; there is only a vast sea. The pinnacle of the Empire State Building breaks the surface, and if you descended from it you would find yourself plunging down, down, down, falling in slow motion past sky scrapers and cold windowpanes, flooded offices and high-rise condominiums, window boxes and fire escapes. Say good morning to the city. Say good morning to the sun glittering and glancing off the water. Dive down deep and have your morning walk on the streets of Brooklynn, floating listlessly by brownstones and black iron fences, treetops swaying like seagrass, bottom-dwelling fish nibbling on algae-encrusted concrete. The buzzing energy of the Big Apple has been replaced by the drone of the ocean, the muffled song of the current singing low in your ears.
Hush. Fall back in your mind until dreams are lucid, where you can see courage in organic shapes, and new life in old sound waves. It is here that growing pains
which kill our legs and our spines turns into the growth of raw feelings, stretching from our tendons to our marrows and out through our capillaries.
Tell me of your discoveries, Fly me to the moon and show me how you revealed that it breathes even though there’s no air so we may follow suit. Then perhaps our world won’t have to be so suffocating.
I want to know of the ways you used to exist in the waves of sound before you knew the sensations of touch. Invite me to memories of wildernesses and small creatures that sing in the night, show me the places where you scratched messages on the hull of your canoe so you could speak to the creatures of the river. I want to learn that language.
This year was my first year horse showing. The season is through the spring, summer and fall. Sadly the season is coming to an end, and finals are in a couple weeks! Me and my pretty pinto horse Prada are competing in the 2'3 and 2' divisions at Hunter/Jumper show. The photo shows us competing in a Jumper division, which means we are trying to complete the cource the fastest. I also had an Equitation and Hunter division. Equitation is on your posture and position, and Hunters is on the horse and how well the horse does.