Poem offering #3 – “Field Trip”

Here’s another poem. And this one actually has a title this time.

The story after the poem.



I tread lightly
in the tennis racket shoes,
lest the wires
dice my feet into cubes.

Words cut me worse than wires.

In the dead of winter,
the half-melting snow,
some leaves remain on the trees
in their vibrant fall colors,
glistening with frost,

Of falling.

(C) by me, Mouse, August 1999



In seventh grade in Wisconsin, the class took a field trip to a nature preserve. In the middle of winter – I remember, because the ‘tour guides’ tried to teach the class how people in olden times would build survival forts in the snow, but my other classmates weren’t listening, grousing about how cold it was.

Towards the end of the trip, we all got to put on snowshoes and run amok. Well, at least, everyone else did. The nature preserve was along a river, and I just went off by myself, to stand near the river. That’s when I noticed the leaves….

Really not much to tell, I guess. That was a strange day.


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