The grass whispers and the wind howls. The trees rattle and the raven prowls. Wet dirt begins to soften the mud, As streams begin to trickle and flood. My feet travel this lonely path. As the storm rages on, Unfolding its wrath.
Black eyes watch from a tree.
Watching or gazing, whichever it may be. The raindrops turn white and float, As water begins to freeze on my coat. I walk along fixed on the sky. Here is another wonderful poem from Matt. Matt is a second year Elementary II Center student.