All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Heather and Peat
The sparrow warbled, darting about
as, over the water, mist clotted.
Swamp cows undulated their lowing,
melancholy as always in the wet.
Creepers grew up over quaggy,
leafless blackened birches
and choked themselves to
get to the sun.
The woodland grew around the marsh
and hunched together, cloistral,
forbidding in its tangled, mismatched mass.
Witching hour drew nigh, the lone
train whistle wakened a nesting black swan
in the gloomy reeds. He raised his
carmine bill majestically.
Spindly fences enclosed the bog
as best they could, though graying
and fallen. Sprays of tiny, pale
blue flowers encroached, overtaking
and ringing the crumbling posts,
climbing. Scruffy rolling hills
softly scrolled the countryside
past the fences. And the sparrow
sang My Wild Irish Rose
with no echo.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
