It feels like I'm in my dreams.

And whenever I look out the window I feel as if I am looking at heaven.

I love the forest because the forest is the creation of God. 
That is why I love it.  

The forest has so many noises: not the loud ones but the nice and quiet ones.

In the morning I hear all the lovely birds and woodpeckers that make it a glorious morning.

The night is not the same but I hear the crickets and the owls; that sounds nice. 

The forest teaches me to be quiet and when I have time I do my prayers and do my cross in the forest.

By Ella (12 years, USA)

The blossoms on the trees,

they grow and make me sneeze.

But soon the petals will be fallen,

and there will be no more pollen.

Then the fruit will come at last,
coming with a sweetness blast.

Ripe and ready, Sweet and soft,

now it's ready, come pick it off.

By M (12 years, USA)

And, “Christ is risen!” is what they sing.

When the birds start to call,

And all the trees start being tall.

When the cherry blossoms start to bloom,

And when there in no sign of any gloom.

When the candle starts to glow,

And the farmer begins to sow,

That’s when everything starts to grow.

Its the time after Winter,

And the time after you get all the splinters, 

From all the firewood you have to chop,

It always make you look at the clock.

This is Springtime, a time so divine!

The time when Christ made things shine brighter than a dime.

Andrea (13 years, USA)

As Blossom trees near their great bloom,
And mounds of happiness with no signs of gloom,
Birdsong echoing through towering trunks,
Crystal clear lakes, washing out gunk,
Awakened are the wild ones, eager for food,
They scour the wilderness, berries and rats they pursued.
Welcoming winds, winding through willows,
Watch as the hyacinth, stretches and grows.
Fresh spring air smells like fragrant fruity perfume,
Flustered family members, frantically sweeping with a broom.
The sound of celebration fills the entire land,
As the once thick snow, now lies thinner than sand.

By Adwin (11 years, Hong Kong)

I was so happy when I was younger

So happy with the life I had

So confident in our own little ways 

So happy on all of the days 

Then a storm came in 

Took everything away from me 

Also took my happiness away

Now nothing here to see 

I am empty like a black hole 

As I lost all the glee

Today I am fidgety and stressed 

I have lost everything 

There is no way to see it 

No one has ever been in my position 

No one will ever feel I felt,

I lost everything 

By Cameryn (12 years, USA)

Reveille. A call of arms to

The humble fisherman to 

Reap their seed and grow from it

Humble flower. As he 

Presents a sparking match to his 

Pursed lips, chalked smoke seeps from the

Freshly-lit cigarette and 

Reaches down from between his 

Knuckles to efface rouge 

Velours from the grassy claws of

The petals to a sheer grey. 

As the meek flower sheds its

Hips, Fisherman comes to his 

Knees. His stained fingertip trailing 

The path of the fallen

Fruit to land upon the 

Paper silhouette of a short 

Pleasure. Humble Fisherman 

Reveals his palms to caress

The fallen hip. As he 

Rinses its raw flesh in the 

Shimmers of the Rhine, the

Fibreglass pill encased 

Within his cigarette sheds its 

Ashy corpse and splits

On the rock in a storm of 

Embers. Lorelei shrieks. 

Flowers would wither 

And an eclipse

Of storm shrouds the sun. The hip,

Shielded in the Fisher-

man’s hand, dissolves into a 

Puddle of mould and maggots,

Melting through the maiden skin 

Of his palms. As the sun turns 

Blacker and the ashes of 

Fisherman’s flower grow finer, 

His bones grind down to a 

Fine coating of soot on the 

Surface of Loreley’s black-

ened soils.

When no trace remains, she sings 

Again, alluring another 

Suitor with her songs to 

Turn her rocky face green once 

More in the fresh spring of tides. 

By Archie (16, UK)

And the blood that trickled and trailed from its mouth,

As they fled. 
The worst for me was my seated painful wait. 
My torn sleeve tugged tightly back. 
Blood soaked and shaken and doctor bound. 

I winced like a boxer between bouts;

Whilst, I’m held for the needle,

That rubs pains pain out. 

I submit to the quick stitch, the thread black

Against pink skin. 

I conceded that this stranger could be trusted and embraced their sympathetic 

Smiling eyes. 

By Aidan, UK

But it stands to give us shade

In the cold and dreary night

It dies and weeps without the light

As our Savior died for us

The willow weeps in grief

Just as He wept in our sins

And went limp as the willows own last leaf

He cried out to the Father Almighty

“My God, My God why have you forsaken me”

And suffered, suffered, suffered on

Until “It is finished” said He

In the dark the willow droops

Sits in cold, dark sadness

The stillness is what sickens me

In this grief there is no gladness

But lo! The son has risen

Upon the third day He will arise

Death and evil has been conquered

And forgiven are our sins and lies

Just as in the morning light

The willow shall stand straight

Flowers and beauty shall shine forth

And in the light there is no hate

An angel sat upon the tomb

As Mary and Martha came

To anoint His holy body

Till the angel called her name

“Why do you search for the dead among the living”

Martha and Mary were struck with awe

For our God who we thought had died was risen

As any who came to his tomb saw

The willows beauty and light

Our Savior's grace and might

One they are and forever will be,

For they both made it through the night

By Margaret (12 years, USA)

I see ground

When I look up

I see clouds

When I look forward

I see you and I

Lying in the grass 

Looking at the sky

If the trees grow green

And the sky is blue

Then another promise

Is that me and you

Will hold hands,

Stay up late

Dancing 'neath the stars

Every day

There is a fire in your eye

Where there used to be a sea

Are you doing better here

Standing next to me

Or is it cause

The trees are green

And the sky is blue

In a dream of spring

Where me and you

Are holding hands

Staying up late

Dancing 'neath the stars

Every day

By Margaret P. (12 years, USA)

And the flowers start to bloom,

and when there is no signs of any snow or gloom.

Its when birds come back with their first song, 

And it is the time Christ arose from the grave.

Rejoice humans and animals, for it is time for rejoicing.

When birds come to us the first song of the birds can be heard, 

And birthdays are happening more and more. 

The snow withers away after winter causes hay. 

Trees start to carry leaves, and that happens when the time of frozen lakes slowly becomes deceased. 

It is the time when Summer is really near, and fun is in the air. Let us announce it, Spring is here!

By Nicolas (10 years, USA)

In the spring,

I want to wear a top with ladybird spots.

I want to wear a fluffy skirt made of the tulip petals.

I want to wear bird shoes which I can fly around in the sky.

I want to wear socks made of dandelion fluff.

I want to wear many necklaces matching with daisy earrings.

I want to wear lots of butterflies with hair clips on my head.

Now I'm ready, I'm on my way to the pastel coloured rainbow slide in the sky.

By Cotty (8 years)

You listen to it, you live it, and you feel it.

There are sad songs, mad songs, and glad songs.

No matter where you live the beat never stops.

It’s obsessive even in your dreams.

You could listen to it when you sleep or in the spring.

It flows as smooth as a waterfall,

like chocolate melting so far down.

It could be bumpy which could leave a frown.

Musics so serene like the buds in the spring.

Maybe you don’t know but you listen to it everyday,

From the birds singing to the bunnies squeaking.

A rainbow forming after the rain, like music you don’t have to pay.

Thunderstorms dressing up the sky which has music's same apparel.

There is music for all four seasons, welcomings, and farewells.

By Kassiani (13 years, USA)

In spring the blue bells sing, while the birds hum random tunes in London's centre

Foxes enter homes and trip on garden gnomes

They take or steal whatever roams

Bees look for nectar in the flowers cracks

Whilst the queen bee sits and relax

When they come back they produce honey in stacks

Spring is when the birds sing

Wanting to fly and spread their wings

The waves sway away just like the people on holiday

It's a perfect time for fun as people get their say

You're always happy when it's spring, the sky is never grey

People take it for granted until it's over.

Even when their in Kent or Dover

You’ll always see daisies or clovers.

By Nathaniel (11 years, UK)

In the springtime when

The ducks are quacking,

The kittens are playing,

And the birds are singing

 

On a branch of the apple tree,

In the middle of her nest,

A little mother sparrow

Is sitting on her eggs.

 

It is this season that plants come to life

Because in it is the day

That we shout, “Hurray!”

Because the Lord arose from the dead.

 

Poking their heads out of the ground.

Springtime is coming,

with the flowers all around.

 

The deer are sniffing the cool fresh air,

With their noses quivering and trembling.

The rabbits come bouncing out of their holes,

All happy that spring has come.

 

Waterfalls and rivers bubbling and gurgling along

Springtime is coming with the sound of a throng.

Honey bees and blossom in the air of the sky,

My little bee is happily buzzing by.

I was watching a little brown bud on a tree

When one day it burst into a flower.

A lovely one, just as white as can be,

From the sun shining on it each hour.

 

I sat down on the bank of a shimmering pond,

When out of the reeds and lilies,

Swam a mother duck and behind her trailing

Were twelve sweet duckie babies.

 

On one clear, spring morning I went for a walk,

When over the grass and heather,

Came the tiny bleat of a new-born lamb,

Lost and calling its mother.

 

A tree that I thought to be dead is alive!

And covered in leaves, small and green.

And perched high in the bows of that tree,

Birds sing of the wonders they’ve seen.