methow grist 2011-2014 archive


White is the color of her wedding dress.
a square tile on the classroom floor.
White is the satisfying chill of milk, cold from the fridge;
is the welcoming light washing over the entrance of my front door.

White is the glisten of a saddened tear.
the drowsy drip of honey warmed by my tea.
is the fleshy sweetness of a sliced apple,
is the unique taste of coconut on my tongue.

White is a detailed vase.
is the three tiered snowman waving to passersby from my enchanted yard.

White is the smile of a black man’s teeth.
White smells like a thick grove of evergreens.
is the crunch of a writer’s frustration.
and bird song dancing in the wind.

White is her arms in the winter.
the laughter of visiting folks.
White is the crackle of the fire in the evening.
and the smell of cocoa warming cold throats.

White is not merciful.

White is the color of grandpa’s beard.
the neatly painted houses in an urban neighborhood.
White is the ice in my glass.
and the cry of a needy baby.

White is the happiness in my eyes as the camera snaps a flash.
White is the lingering sensation of love.
White feels like the milky residue of dish soap on helpful hands.
is the boom of thunder in a furious storm.

White is the sandy beaches of an ocean,
Its offspring of shells blowing secrets in my ear.

Mackenzie Woodworth is a seventh-grader in Dani Golden’s English class



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