A trip to the Mohawk Moutain,. On the slope of gray-green grass,. We climb and exert exhausting sounds. Up in the sky above the valley,. Shines the sun in brilliant light. Oh, what a promising trip. Together we took this trip,. And together we explored the mountain. Eyes and skin glisten in the light. As we roll about the grass. Observing the surroundings and sounds.

Whitman Loves Himself, You. Ode to the All Over. How staggering it is to accept the magnanimity of the universe. To pretend to fathom a depthless perception.

I think a lot of students grow frustrated with the amount of rules we have set up for them to follow.