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Interior Lowlands 

 

 

 

 Natalya Stubbs

Farming

Back-breaking and time-consuming

 

But money-making and worth doing

 

I spend my time leaned over a field

 

A field as long as five football fields

 

Just moving down one by one

 

Laying new seeds into the rich soil

 

In a couple of weeks, they will hopefully change

 

All depending on the weather, I have no control of


This work could be for nothing

 

All this time and sweat could be wasted

 

I just have to have some hope the rains will come and

 

Turn my seeds into something new

 

Something tasty and fresh

 

Oh, how delicious it would be

 

If only they grow

 

Fire Bans

Yellow, dead grass and leafless, creaking trees

 

So dry, nothing would dare to step out into the burning sun

 

On the ground, worms are shriveled up and slowly decaying

 

Just a spark occurs and the next thing you know is,

 

A fire dancing at your feet, burning the already dead grass

 

If one could just follow the rules,

 

Follow the signs, “No Fires Allowed”

 

But as we all know there are rule breakers

 

And the ones that say that nothing will happen

 

Eventually, something does

 

Sparks grow into fires, as lies grow to rumors

 

They are both hard to get out of and hard to stop

 

Both have a solution that leaves a consequence


The fire leaves the land burnt, black, and bruised

When the nights are dark and windy you know a storm is coming

 

The wind begins to howl through the cracks of the house

 

Rain begins to make a pitter-patter on the windows

 

Soon the small drops of rain fall down with small chunks of ice

 

And lightning flashes in response to the grumble of the clouds

 

Then comes the panic of the car being parked inside

 

And the hope the windows don’t crack and the fence doesn’t fall

 

The sirens go off and your only hope is the shelter of a small closed room

 

Sometimes it’s too hard to sit and not know what’s going on

 

So you have to peak at the big funnel of air every few seconds when the

 

Lightning strikes down only a couple of miles away

 

The need for hope slowly decreases as it takes longer to see the funnel,

 

Crawling away because the thunder and lightning are finishing their conversation

 

The grass is now flooded and mudded so there is no point watering the land


The next day the sun is out and the clouds have left to bother someone else

Storms

Precious rocks are buried in the earth

 

Sparkling and waiting to be yanked from the ground

 

Swing after swing miners slowly break apart the field of earth

 

Which the rocks are protected by

 

The earth is a selfish place, hiding its numerous gems and jewels

 

It would be so much easier if the ground beneath us could open at our touch

 

Our pickaxes are eventually worn down like energy after a running race

 

Place after place miners keep looking

 

Because the earth does a good job hiding its rocks

 

This is all for money and use

 

That’s probably why the earth is so selfish

 

We are wasting its unique work for useless matters

 

The work we do mining is no match for what the earth does to make them for us

 

The earth already provides so much for us

 

Here we are trying to rip its rocks out of the earth

 

Mining

Icicles dangle from every ledge they can find

 

There’s a thin blanket over the ground

 

Children are playing in the snow

 

Snowmen begin to dot the earth

 

You can see your breath,

 

Every few seconds you breathe

 

Lips start to chap,

 

After the first snowball is thrown

 

Sitting and snuggling in soft blankets,

 

By the fire with mustaches of hot chocolate

 

This winter takes so long

 

One cannot wait to see the sun again

 

But here we are stuck in the snow

 

Not able to leave


So just hope the snow will

Long, Cold Winters

Children lie around until something happens

 

School's out for a short season

 

And we are trying to decide,

 

Where we are gonna go

 

Somewhere warm

 

But not too hot

 

Maybe a beach

 

Oh, I can’t wait to touch the sand

 

It’s so hot, but luckily this doesn’t last long

 

Still, I hope for the clouds

 

To cover up the burning sun

 

Better make the best of this summer,

 

It’s not gonna stay

 

I need beach balls and towels and much more


I hope this goes well on the shore

Short, Hot Summers

Rich, Open Land

There’s so much to do in this open land

 

Plant crops or just lay around in

 

Put in all this work or relax

 

Crops would be beneficial

 

Money-making and something to eat

 

This open land has rich soil,

 

Perfect for crops

 

But it’s also perfect for me to lay in

 

To have a picnic or nap

 

This is such a hard choice for me

 

I could have fun and relax

 

Or I could work hard and sweat

 

Why do I have this wide, open land

 

Either choice I make results in a consequence


So much to do in this wide, open land

I can see everything under me

 

All of the open land

 

The farms and the cattle

 

There are oats and wheat

 

Cows, pigs, and poultry

 

I’m here for every season

 

The short, hot summers

 

And the long, cold winters

 

I’m here for all of the seasons

 

Sometimes there’s snow on my needles

 

Other times I need more water than usual

 

There are miners and farmers,

 

Working nonstop

 

Hopefully, their work will pay off


All I can do is watch

Life of a Spruce