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Interior Lowlands 




 Natalya Stubbs


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


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



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