CREATIVE WRITING CORNER -- Submitted by students

Water

   By Wendy Wilbur, 14, Wisconsin

Water...   Lapping against the shore.

Water...   Growing ever more.

Water...   Against the window pane.

Water...   Hear it come down as rain.

Water...   See the puddles splash.

Water...   In a flood, trees crash.

Water...   An endless open sea.

Water...   It's a big part of me.

The Rain is Mother Earth's Tears

     By Lindsey Kellor, 13, Wisconsin

  Every day animals are being poached for their skins, tusks, teeth, claws, and even eyes. They do not use these things for clothing or medicine but for souvenirs, decoration, jewelry, and lucky charms. These poachers are foolish -- for whatever happens to animals, will soon happen to mankind. So when mother earth weeps and you feel her tears, a little part inside of you will make you cry, too. 

The Lake of Shining Waters

   By Kari Hanson, 9, Wisconsin

The water is shining.

I watch the sun dip below the lake right

    before dusk.

The colors of the sky are like a rainbow.

A sliver of the moon peeks from behind The big oak tree, and I for once am alone.

The crickets are singing their beautiful

   night-time song.

The big oak tree makes a haunting sound

   when the wind blows by.

Peace falls upon the forest.

And that all happens in the middle of the

   night by the lake of shining waters.

             *Drawings by Tegan Canterbury      

Nature's Music  By Lindsey Kellor, Wisconsin

      She was calling to me late one day, but only my ears heard her. My heart was too busy listening to the fragile creatures of the woods I lived in. Their sounds were enough to keep me from going inside. Their calls were like open books, and I had a curious hunger for words, so I kept on walking.

     The sun was falling with nothing to catch it, but still I walked on. I was hearing things I had never heard before, things I had taken for granted to drown out the painful ticking of the clocks. The birds were chirping, the trees were swaying back and forth, and the crickets were playing their nightly orchestra. I soon came to a field where the sun was setting. I saw such rich colors that an artist only dreamed of using.

     Then I heard that noise again. My mother was calling for me to come back into the house where the clocks ticked. As I ran, I heard the coyotes howl their good night. Something there, I could feel it, went into that empty place in my heart. I knew that I had come into their world, and I had understood their meaning of why they played that beautiful music. Ever since then, my heart was kept warm when all was silent.