Seasons of Memories
Shrewsbury, MA
2025, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
Just a fifteen-minute walk from my old house,
at the end of an abandoned trail,
there’s a waterlogged quarry behind my friend’s house—
a hidden pond.
When leaves litter my secret path,
I grab a hiking stick from the brush
to sweep the ground and pierce the leaves
like a marshmallow through a skewer.
I find the biggest, flattest leaf
and race it down the creek,
then trek up the quarry to see
the sparkling water and snap a photo.
When snow floats from the sky onto my tongue,
I wear waterproof gloves and snow pants,
and make sculptures in the cotton-carpeted land.
I lace my skates to twirl and drift across my private rink—
a show for my mom and the waving branches,
ending with an exaggerated fall.
When honeybees buzz from flower to flower,
I search for pink lady’s slippers and birds’ feet,
scope out frogs hiding in rising weeds,
sneak up like a leopard but hesitate and miss.
I swish my hand through green pond dust
and watch a black trail follow.
When the sun bakes the land,
I sit on cool rocks with a bucket of oatmeal,
sprinkle flakes over the pond, and watch
as creatures surface as if called by a dinner bell, searching for food.
I chase silver fish tails, spot catfish and tadpoles,
even glimpse the shimmer of a black snake’s scales
before I let them fade back into the water.
Just a fifteen-minute walk away—
a place full of my firsts
a symbol of my growth
from wobbly footsteps to confident strides, crossing that trail time and time again
from slippery falls to graceful glides, twirling through a frozen surface
from clumsy misses to quick catches, gazing at the creature between my cupped hands
from shaky hands to easy snaps, capturing precious moments through a lens—
A memory.
Reflection
I started out by thinking of my personal memories in nature to narrate in my work. I remembered an old pond - really an overflowed quarry - where I spent countless afternoons during the first ten years of my life fishing, skating, hiking, and racing leaves. I chose the pond as the subject of my poem and wrote it in all the different seasons to highlight how I used to play there all year. Next, I started just writing whatever came to mind: whether it be words I wanted to use or short phrases I found fitting. I then piece all my miscellaneous ideas into my first draft. I usually reread to check for mistakes or parts that don’t flow great. After reading some famous nature poetry, I incorporated new ideas into another draft. Finally, I felt satisfied with my poem. This theme made me discover that sometimes, our most intimate moments are when we can let go and live in the moment outdoors. A breath of fresh air seems to lift all my due dates and responsibilities off my shoulders, and I can race leaves down a creek and laugh obnoxiously loud like a little kid again. So, when people read my poem, I want them to feel the positivity and freedom of my memories in nature and be able to remember their own and that feeling. Live in the moment, because nature is where we feel the most alive.