The wind dancing freely along the halls,
A touch of curiosity in the eye as it grazes the walls.
I love tornadoes.
An envying moon commands water to
rise and crash,
But the sun whispers, "be still, there is no need to be rash".
I love the sea.
Cold always lurks in the dark,
And yet, the feeling of snow always leaves me stark
When the snow settles, the roads become dangerously slick,
you can slip on them and slide,
that lamppost on your street, I might take a lick.
I love the ice.
Roots climb from the bottom to the top
they grow unruly, knowing no stop,
in the end, their purpose is simply to breathe,
they grow in their own direction, and have no limits in regards as to where they should sprout a new leaf.
I love trees.
My world is complete.
All my essential elements live here and will never become obsolete.
For a tornado brews in me when I am under pressure and heat,
but I know that
like the trees, I should breathe,
and my tears from fears will become sleet.
If I know this, how could I face defeat?
— Hanna Guzman (2023)
