Student Publishing Program ::

Jennifer Tabaczynski

Old Res

It is an art to etch your calligraphy onto the smooth surface,

The spiral scrawl scribbled by the sharp blade shines,

Reflecting the sunlight, and the years of casual practice.

The bare trees surrounding the small pond blur in my vision.

I spin, faster, faster, holding tight to myself.

I release, and glide out, arms, leg, chin up.

And then, out of nowhere, whack.

Something solid hits. I sail, flailing, through the air

And land with a mighty thud.

I can imagine the black and blue that will appear there tomorrow.

So now you might note that it as also an art

To watch where you are going,

Because a boy chasing after his hockey puck

Will be doing no such thing.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2012 EDITION]