The Midnight Music Store
As the day ends in the music store,
The door is shut,
And the sign flips to CLOSED,
Not everything is over.
It starts with a beat,
As a drum begins to hum.
A bass guitar later joins in,
Adding a second sound to the mix.
A keyboard warms up,
A trumpet plays a tune.
Instruments chime in one after another,
Coming from other stores too.
The store is alive,
Not with people, but with music.
After a long night of playing,
The instruments tire,
And everything starts to slow.
They return one by one to their homes,
The song begins to die down,
And the music store is asleep,
Just as the sign flips back to OPEN.
The color of soil
smells of grilling, smoky food
Brown is strong
Like roots of an old oak
Or the trunk of a pine tree
Brown is kind and gentle
Like the warming flames it can kindle
Rough on the outside
Smooth on the inside
It sounds like a silent welcome
It is brown
Sporty and Smart, Social yet Solitary
Brother of Augusta
Lover of Friendship, Humor, and Challenges
Who feels Happiness around Others
And Contentment on his Own
Who gives Joy and Companionship
Who fears Stress, Sadness, and Farewells
Who would like to see Himself in a Happy Family
Who lives in a Happy Cul de sac in USC
The Penguin Who Flew
As the young penguin waddled home on a quiet day, he began to imagine, something all other penguins had forgotten how to do. Cloud was sometimes made fun of for this, but he didn’t mind. When other penguins would swim or play, he would sit on a bench all alone. He knew they really desired to do the same as he did. While he walked and thought, Cloud began to wonder if he’d ever meet his namesake. Clouds were always so close to him, just above his head, yet they were too far away. No, they weren’t away, away was somewhere he could go if he pleased. They were up.
Though young Cloud was different than any other penguin, he wasn’t crazy. “No penguin has ever gone up, and no penguin ever will,” he said to no one. He kicked a pebble aside, and waddled home, angry at himself for thinking up such a crazy idea.
When the penguin arrived at his humble nest, he quickly fell asleep. But Cloud was a very, very special penguin. Somehow he could do things others could not. The sleepy penguin began to dream.
On most days, Cloud dreamt of piles of fish, or a fancy nest, but today, this clever being began to dream of clouds. He dreamt of flying.
As Cloud drifted gently through the sky, he was filled with joy. With the wind in his feathers, and friends cheering from below, he was the happiest penguin in the world. Just before Cloud awoke from his slumber, he saw an Arctic bird fly past him. It looked so happy in the sky.
When he woke up, Cloud could barely remember the feeling of wind in his feathers, or the sounds of cheering penguins, but he did remember one thing vividly.
“Birds!” Cloud yelled loudly enough for the whole town to hear.
And they did. “What was that?” a few little penguins asked.
“Oh, it’s just that crazy Cloud again,” the elders of the town explained, as if it had happened many times before.
The excited penguin waddled as fast as he could out of the village. He was looking for birds.
As he arrived at a cliff, Cloud saw a bird below feeding its young. He sat contently for hours with his notebook, observing the size of the wings and bird.Finally, once it had gotten dark, Cloud left his cliff and hurried home.
The penguin gathered all of the materials he had, and for the whole night, Cloud worked away. He was a very smart penguin, and knew he needed to have a strong, light, and bigger pair of wings, but he wasn’t sure how. Not a single penguin was able to rest, for the sound of hammers and welding echoed through the town. Despite this trouble, though, Cloud had a sleek pair of wings ready by morning.
The next day, Cloud was so tired that he didn’t even leave his nest. When his friend came by and woke him up, the sleepy penguin had a favor to ask.
“Tell the town that I have found a way to fly!”
By morning, every penguin in town, and then some, were gathered around a hill, waiting for the flying penguin. Proud and excited, Cloud arrived with his wings to cheering louder than he had ever heard before. Everyone wanted to see a penguin fly. Both excited and scared, he waddled to the top of a hill. If everything worked out right, he would take off when he reached the bottom again.
When he reached the top and got into his sliding position, he saluted the crowd and they cheered even louder. He pushed off.
As he rushed down the hill, everything started to slow down. He remembered his childhood, when he developed his talents. He remembered his parents, who were down in the crowd. And, most of all, he remembered all the times he had been made fun of for his talents. It had all been for this day, this time, the moment.
Cloud reached the bottom of the hill. He could feel himself pick up air, and for a second he thought he had done it. But he was wrong. Cloud fell right back down into the snow. Silently and sadly, the crowd dispersed and began home.
When Cloud picked himself up, he repeated what he had said earlier. “No penguin has ever flown, and no penguin ever will.”
But yet again, Cloud was wrong. When he started waddling, the wind started to pick up behind him. Excited, he ran as fast as he could.
A few penguins noticed the wind and looked back to find Cloud picking up air. They got the attention of the crowd, and everyone watched. And filled with joy, with wind in his feathers, and friends cheering from below, Cloud flew.