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go here. ------>quelnt.iuma.com ﾂｶ 11:11 PM

This poem I wrote for a personal essay:

Snapshots
I.
Drip drip.
Drip drip.
My eyes slide open to darkness and rain,
and I am the tired, lazy rolls of thunder.
Two more drips-staccato,
before my alarm awakens
and squawks in discord to the storm.

II.
My tires on asphalt (fash-fash, splash!).
It窶冱 too early to be driving- but I am.
Up with the sun, already at work,
turning mulch and sand while others sugar coffee.
Rain collects on my windshield in the parking lot.
The drops dampen my skin and beg me to dance.

III.
I fell in love with it before it knew I existed.
Sixteen, a child still,
but one who loved the plants and animals,
and felt something calming in the Bird House air.
My fellow keepers feel it, I know;
I see it when they move and walk.
I watch them, I learn and dream
-and the birds begin to trust me.

IV.
The Bird Garden in the rain smells like love.
My soul is full for the simple reason
that the ground is warm and smells damp.
The fiery Satyr bird preens busily,
working the droplets into his red-gold plumage.
I fill his bowl and leave him be.

V.
The sun comes out and ricochets off water (ting-ting!).
I let the road fly by and enjoy the summer sun.
Soon it will be fall- time for college,
But for now I sweat and work in the heat.
I will miss this when I go back North.
My driveway welcomes my car back home;
I am received by my cat.



VI.
Night, and crickets (cree! cree!).
I eat my self-cooked dinner, flex achy feet,
stretch my neck, and take a sip of tea.
I love the taste of the hot liquid as it burns down.
My food is filling, even self-fulfilling
-but the Tawny Frogmouth refused another meal.

VII.
My room in the dark is very soft to the senses.
My body, exhausted from physical labor,
loves the fact that it demands no attention.
I smile myself to sleep by allowing the snapshots
of my day to seep and blend down into my dreams.

I窶冦 only nineteen- can life be more fulfilling than this?
(In my dreams, I whisper yes.)

~W.D.W
_________________________________________

Ya know, I liked this until I made myself sick of it by proofreading it over and over...and changing words around in a vain attempt to give it meter.
Keep in mind that each poem is meant to be separate from every other.
Hmmmm....maybe I'll hate it less in a week.