Young Local Writers
Personal essays written by students ages 9-15 who participated in an 826michigan workshop led by Observer designer LR Nunez and calendar editor Katie WhitneyFriday, January 27, 2017
All is dark, but the moon and stars shine bright, piercing the darkness. It’s nighttime, the silver moon shines full. The sky is cloudless. I hear the constant croaking of the frogs. Soon, it becomes a background noise. An owl hoots in the distance.
The sun is shining.
Thud. Thud. Thud. My footsteps make loud sounds as I walk across the bridge. I flinch as a dragonfly flies in front of my nose. The weather is warm. Baby ducklings have arrived. There are nine. They are insanely adorable. The busy mother has her backside in the air. A frog on the other side of the bridge distracts me from the ducklings. Something moves in the water, but I do not see it. Another duck flies down to the pond. She joins the mother in her awkward position. The pond is full of life.
It’s cold. Really cold. I stick my tongue out and a snowflake lands on it. The pond is frozen. I see a blurred orange beneath the ice that must be goldfish. I throw a heavy stick on the ice. It holds. Cautiously, but determinedly, I step on. It holds. I put my other foot on. It holds. I take a step. Then another. This is really cool! An outdoor skating rink, all to myself. I slide around on the ice for a while, until I realize I can barely feel my cheeks. Now, I go home to my couch, my book, and a warm mug of hot chocolate. The point at West Park is magical, and if I you take the time to listen, and imagine, you will see that you can feel its power around you.
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