Everything Is Alive
Monday, January 30th, 2012The eyes of the house.
The belly of the ball pops out.
The tulips open their eyes.
The skin of the drum.
The building’s leg was broken.
Winter held us in its snow.
The sweet voice of the wind.
The deep moan of the cave.
I was cradled by the arms of the house.
The river grabbed the boat with its hands.
The laughter of the cold
was all we could hear.
–Joseph Crowell, age 7
From the WritersCorps 2006 anthology “Solid Ground”
Poem of the Month: January 2012


