The submissions deadline is Friday, February 17, 2023.
I walk into a land of snow
Wandering through the brush
In a farm blanketed by frost.
The snow under foot crunches with every step
Around the farmland I take in the natural beauty
Ice topped mountains as if Mother Nature herself sprinkled them with sugar
Creating the cake she calls Earth.
From beneath an evergreen tree, I see a horse drawn carriage pull around the corner,
The driver waves and asks my name.
Later, I skate atop a frozen pond and make a fire and roast marshmallows while I warm up,
The wind on my skin is like knives although I am bundled up in layers of clothing.
The gentle smell of a home baked feast wafts from a house nearby
Inside the window I see an old lady bent over, tending to the fire and her family.
The wind howls in my ears as if it is trying to tell me something,
I return to the farm and help chop trees for firewood.
We saw them into small logs, perfect for the bonfire we are making.
Some of the snow has melted and a small stream is flowing through the farmyard
It leads downhill, towards the river, like a tear rolling down the face of this mountain.
The sun slowly sinks beneath the horizon,
Everything painted brilliant shades of pink, orange, and red.
One where teachers were not mean and biased toward me
Grant Thompson, when he was alive