Journal 8/Nov 23, 2010
Boy, Waiting for a School Bus"His breath carves little statues out of cold"
Even though there is no set rhyme to the poem but there is a small rhythm get into as you read it. This line is such a simple little observation that adds to the cold morning air but it is so much more. This metaphor gives life to the boy's breath and gives you a vivid mental picture of watching your own breath every time its cold. It makes you wonder if your breath makes little sculptures in the air.
I flashed back to my time spent at the bus stop. I vividly remember one winter morning at the bus stop. The temperature was at or below 20 degrees, there was a foot of snow and of course i was wearing shorts and a hoodie. As i walked the two streets to the corner i just always saw my breath. So i changed my breathing to make weird patterns in the frigid sky. I sped up my breath, slowed it down and made short fast breaths. As i waited the 5 or 15 minutes for the bus to get there, i pretended i was smoking then thought to blow "smoke" rings and failed.
Overall i felt very mellow and reminiscent about my childhood and my childish conquests.