Laura Green

Time Passing

 “We do not remember days. We remember moments.”
    -Cesare Pavese


Today is winter and
I wear a hat,
But my ears still fall
Victim to the ferocious wind.

Every car reflects the sky, but blurs
Through its metallic filter until the contrast of
Downy soft clouds to the stark cerulean sky
Melts into monotone and silver.

I rest against the car
and watch
Our sun set past the barren and wintry trees; their
Branches reaching like fingers to
Idolize the slowly decaying daylight.
It’s just pollution, but
Whenever I see a sunset with
    baby pink melting into softest blue,
It tastes like cotton candy hope in my mouth.

Outside –
The wind howls cold, but
I can fight it with hot chocolate.


Spring is just
two months of  grey mornings and permanent puddles and frozen mud before Summer and


At night,
The flowers of summer illuminate
My garden, neon signs of youth.

I’ve noticed, on our after dinner walks,
That the grass always looks greenest in the evening,
With the sun slanting in sideways.

The beetle hangs
          Tumescent and glistening-brittle,
    Beneath a flower petal, luscious and creamy with moisture.

New England summer nights oppress
Hot air - saturated - to the viscosity of honey,
My damp skin sticks to the sheets.

We dangle our feet off the top bunk into the waiting darkness, and
We are the only ones in the world who matter.


The soaring ceilings of the Art
Museum on an autumn Sunday
Are my temple.
A mosaic of color tessellating
    crimson to lemon yellow
Above me mirrors
    brown to deeper brown
A more somber scene below

Crunch - of fallen leaves beneath my feet
I kill my demons with joyful sound.


Copyright 2002-2007 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose 2002-2007 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission. SPP developed and designed by Strong Bat Productions.