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Carissa Szabo is a current senior at Endicott College. She is soon to become an elementary school teacher in Turkey after graduation in May. She has always had a passion for new experiences. Growing up in rural Vermont, she was a neighbor to the trees and lakes. Her father and grandmother showed her their love of nature and from there Carissa began writing poetry about the natural world around her.
It Is Nice Here, So I Sit
The sun shines on and within me
All I hear are the leaves rustle
As the wind finds her voice.
A chickadee calls for his partner.
The trail is washed with
Muted warm colors.
Oak leaves, dried grasses,|
Twigs and rocks:
Utterly divine.
Can I sit here,
Stretch my toes into the ground
Reach my arms up
|Until my fingertips brush
The powdered sky,
Until I become a tree myself?
Crack my ribs
Wide open into the breeze.
My skin would harden
And become brittle,
Covered with pale green lichen
An oak tree would do me well.
Right in the middle of
This trail intersection.
I would point the way to
Travelers and bikers.
Home small critters.
No luck,
Still flesh and bones.
I will try again next time.
— Carissa Szabo
What a lovely absolute definition of the very word “lyrical!” You make me want to just bury my feet in the ground and grow myself right into a tree, too!