Email Poem

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Poem


Outside the window
Trees are painted red and gold
And the yard outside
Is overflown with leaves.

Squirrels chase each other
Crunching over the orange foliage
Around the bushes
And up the tree—
I reckon the tree is two hundred years old.

A boy walks into frame
He stops at a tree
And looks up
Seemingly searching for a subject
With a camera in his hand.
Soon,
He walks away.

Outside the window
Trees are bare.
Instead of leaves,
Snow blankets the grass
With slivers of green
Peeking through.

Today the classroom is empty
Void of students,
For they have caught a cold
And stayed home for the day,

So I look outside
Leaning on my hand
And admire the frost
That covers the leafless trees and the fence
Where it cuts the school off from the parking lot.

Outside the window
Flowers have begun to pop up 
Between the last remnants of melting snow
And the window has been opened
For it is stuffy in the classroom.

This time, 
The boy is back.
He’s brought a friend,
A girl holding an identical camera.

They sit together
Under the tree
I imagine the boy saying,
“Two heads are better than one,”
As they take photos of the 
World around them.

I notice the window says
333.

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