A Trail

Today my class and I walked on Pine Creek Trail. I asked them to focus on adjectives when they were looking around. If I would have had a notebook, there would have been a list. The focus was using our senses to describe our walk on the trail. Here's what I remember.

Escape from Room 126

Crunching stones move on the path from
The line of sliding wet sneakers of skaters in mud.
Stelth- like, the black muskrat sneaks perpendicularly toward
His ball-nest, centered among the cattails, sitting empty across the rushing stream.
Gushing water invites us around the corner to view
Little bodies bending over the bridge edge to watch ice tea-slicked rocks.
Between twin brooks
An army of reeds hides pockets of deer beds.
Frothy meringue gathers on one side of the fallen turtle bridges.
Hypnotic ice pellets wedge in strands of dark black braids until
A cargo train's whistle interrupts my natural utopia.
Emerging from the wild,
The wet pavement sounds from passing cars.
The trail begs me to stay.