“A Certain High”
By Megan
Rheaume-Brand
My bicycle drops to
waiting grass
and I approach
the silver-gray roots.
Feet shuffle
pull up weathered steps,
eight flights
of heart-pounding.
Punching echoes
reverberate throughout
the skeletal
enclosure which I grip.
As I reach, so
does the earth on tiptoes
and never quite
understands the horizon,
for it blues
into whirls of whites
and I can see
the world really is round.
Wind rustles
through unwritten leaves
while birds
swim through fierce currents
to chime in
with their complaints of it all.
I lean back and
trust the chalky rails
to gaze upside
down at a certain high.
Like the horizon
meets with the
naïve trees,
one step away from
lovers carved
names' warmth to
Plunge alone
into the coldest forest.
“This is my last semester at Nicolet and I'm
transferring to UWSP for Health Promotion and Wellness. This poem is about my
favorite place in the whole world. Maybe you can guess what it is?”
* * * * * * * * * *
"White Dove Flying"
By Genie Mckenzie
As morning broke,
I saw in sun's first rays,
A white dove flying.
It lit upon my soul
And said,
"My son is here,
Listen to him."
All day I listened
I heard him
In the robin's "Cheer-a-lee."
And in the bursting buds
On apple tree.
I heard him in
My grandson's kiss
And in the handshake
Of a friend.
And at day's end,
In my husband's
Sweet embrace
And all day long
He listened
To me, too
[See April 3's brief statement about Genie McKenzie.]
