Senior Alex Piccio shares a personal poem.

the eye

“they are all the same” the woman utters

i glance out the fogged window

and see the trees

colored with tones of a powerful flame

“and what does that make them?” i question her

“mundane”

i turn my head a second time

and see what she does not

a powdery green valley

complemented by vibrant red and bright orange

contrasting the faint grey of the morning sky’s reflection on the gently rippled lake

a patch of sun peeks through parting clouds

and shines upon the landscape

the white light seeps through the branches

blanketing the valley in subtle rays of warmth

the beauty in front of me is inspiring

i can see what He intended for this world

when He created a planet so vast

with plentiful colorful treasures

i turn away from the scene to meet her stare

“what could be missing?” i set down my brush

the woman stands for a moment

speculating my painted canvas with glazed eyes

she shrugs “it’s just trees, but i guess it’s nice.”

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