Yevet Tenney

Frost crocheted like lace flutters over the windows and waits for the sun to melt it away. The morning sunlight leaps and dances over the new fallen snow, and the blue abyss of sky stretches forever in cloudless wonder over the trees that droop with their burden of wet snow and icicles, which scrape the whiteness below.

The wind is blowing the clouds in, with the hope of rain or snow. This time of year, you never know. We’ve had the first frost, and the vegetable garden is brown and tangled. We’ve eaten the last cucumbers, and the tomatoes that weren’t killed by the frost are ripening in the spare room.

Once upon a time there was a Grasshopper. He loved to dance and sing. All day in the summer he danced and sang to his heart’s content. He watched the ants carrying bits of grain and corn into their tunnels. He laughed at their labors.

Ponce De Leon was an explorer from the 1500s who discovered Florida. Florida must have been beautiful because the word Florida in Spanish means flowery, but Ponce De Leon was not interested in flowers. He was interested in a legend that told of a fountain of water that flowed freely, giving all who drank of it perpetual youth. Of course tragically, he never found the fountain.

One afternoon I sat in a stuffy high school classroom and listened to the drone of the teacher’s voice. I was drifting off to sleep when I heard something that piqued my interest.

“If an enemy wanted to destroy our government and freedoms, they would take the American Flag and cut it in pieces and give everyone a tiny piece.” I sat up and stared at the teacher. I didn’t understand.

The brown water from my body has swirled down the drain along with the grime and oil from my matted hair. The stench from the sweat under my armpits has given way to the sweet smell of deodorant. My teeth sparkle with fresh toothpaste, and the scarlet sunburn on my face has turned golden tan.