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Poetry: Five Clips 


1: I look out the window. It’s still raining. I squint, I can see an outline of a supermarket far off.

2: I like the way your head feels on my lap. You are still sleeping, under the shade of the oak tree.

3: She runs off, her apron swaying back and forth. She’s 5, she is very smart for that age, already washing the dishes.

4: It’s 1:39 a.m., and I’m still awake. I want to wake someone up, but that would be rude.

5: We run up to the top of the mountain of grass, the robbers close behind. I yell at them. They stop running.

Speaking of...

  • Five Clips, a poem by nine-year-old Ada I. J. Lowengard

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