Third Grade Poetry

 

Angling

I finally cleaned and organized my “art studio”.  I threw out a lot of shit, because I love to throw out shit, which is what made me know for certain that I could never be an archivist.  However there is a nostalgic streak that runs through my body, and I did hold on to a lovely poem I wrote when I was 8 years old.  It’s about swans, which makes sense because I’ve been collecting photo clippings of swans for all these years.  Above is a monotype I made recently based on some of those images I’d been saving.  At least I’m consistent.  So in celebration of throwing out most things,  but holding on to some, I’d like to share my poem with you.  I’ve written it in italics for this special occasion:

Out of the sky from nowhere to be seen

a swan was going to a stream.

Laying her eggs in such a quiet way

there she was by the hay.

In the sparkling water

on this damp warm night

I see a fish by the warmth and the light.

I see it often and I see it well

now I know where they dwell. 

Thank you, everyone.

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