Last day of seventh grade.

What a ride it’s been!

Self-discovery.

Maturity.

So much growth.

Rising

The wind picks up 
swirling bits of cut grass, 
blowing dew-laden petals,
calling out for all things living

to lift their heads 
toward the sun. 
Listen to the warmth 
and growth and new life.

The earth tilts on its axis, 
shifting the seasons, 
reveling in the dance 
of summer solstice.

All is change.
All is cyclical.
All is growth. 
All is good.

Even the dying
decomposes into 
nutritious soil—
sufficient and alive.

Beauty rising up
like my Phoenix, 
my bright and brilliant star, 
my rising eighth grader.

—cjpjordan