by Carolina Larracilla
The Woodlands High School
A DAY at the dandelion field
Glittering jade stalks of grass stretch far
Flattens out into Field is
Is crowned with bouquets of dandelions,
Twirling into pine green hair, soft
And ticklish on the unburdened skin of a child’s ankles.
She reaches for her sister and Breeze
Reaches for the thick black strands of her pigtails,
Bouncing and new and unknowing of the
Shackles life later brings.
She reaches up to pluck one up and listens
As Breeze sings to her what to do.
“Like this.” She shows her sister.
“Like this!”, she repeats again and again,
Blowing out dandelion after dandelion into
Tiny clouds, like a fuzzy smoke that burns her wishes
Into the sky, a brand of children’s whims and dreams
Fertile in this crescent slice of world
Where flowers can grow young forever above
Specks of feathers carried to the Powers
On strong and gentle wings of the wind.
“No more,” she tells her sister after
Field is a bare head of silky locks
And Breeze is tired and
“It’s time for lunch,” their mother calls,
Holding a baby to her hip.
But there’s tomorrow to keep playing until
Tomorrow runs out and she realizes
She’s growing older.
In the breath between the waterfall’s fall
And the wind’s push of the weathervane
And the rest of the words
And the pause where everything unspoken
Happens after sunset kisses touch Earth
Is where you and I exist
It’s that place where nothing can touch us
Not the past, future or even the present
We exist outside of it all
Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves
When the stares get too heavy or too hot
And I can’t seem to look away
But how your hand touches mine
Is what’s most important
And your eyes tell me we don’t need an explanation
Or a place to exist
We’d be as okay running in the dark
As we’d be laying in the sun
And as long as I stop searching
I’ll find that home is right here
In the ceaseless torrent of the waterfall
In the calm lullaby of the gentle wind
And we don’t need the space between sentences
To be ours, if your love is enough
For us to be us anytime
Carolina Larracilla is a sophomore at The Woodlands High School in Texas. Besides writing poetry, she spends her time reading, swimming and writing for the school newspaper, The Caledonian. She plans to pursue a major in Journalism, alongside a career in creative writing.