Articles written by Elizabeth Done

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  • Where White Lilies Grow

    Elizabeth Done, Seeley-Swan High School, Grade 12|Mar 29, 2018

    by Elizabeth Done Seeley-Swan High School, Grade 12 I know a place where the lilies do not thaw, A place where beauty collides with all that is raw. White petals extend past thick brush Close by morning songs are sung by a thrush. Breathing in adrenaline while mulies exhale steamy grunts Never has it been about the hunts. Where white lilies grow cow elk drop calves. Sows guide cubs along narrow shale paths. You can find me somewhere there about. Most likely following a buck's route. Is it wrong...

  • Moving Mountains

    Elizabeth Done, Seeley-Swan High School - 12th Grade|Aug 10, 2017

    by Elizabeth Done Seeley-Swan High School, Grade 12 They are the valley's eastern sentinels granting passage to the sun. They are rigidly cut shadows under violet chalk skies. They're a skiff of oil upon water, shifting in light, unfurling with each step, until the puzzle pieces have rearranged themselves. Their distant counterparts are hazy scenes on Grandma's rabbit-ear television. Their steel hue is the Falls dampening their feet. They are the slope of a Grizzly's face with the colors of a...

  • Rest On Fawn Peak

    Elizabeth Done, Seeley-Swan High School, Grade 11|Dec 29, 2016

    If I fall asleep for the last time, Let it be as the sun kisses the Mission Mountains as orange replaces blue. Let it be when jays roost, does feed on clover silently near by. Let it be when the bull bugles good night, stars rush to the owls whim. When darkness presses the lake flat, a mirror for the sky to admire its beauty. Being at peace I will finally die. Let it be that this body, my thin long feet to my solid shoulders, is given to the land that brought me such joy. Let me be when my...

  • Marshall Lake

    Elizabeth Done, Sophomore Seeley-Swan High School|Nov 5, 2015

    Silence of another snowy slow-going evening. Fog pouring off the lake, slinking away, Staying lower than my knees, Revealing a perfectly flat mirror of water. Reflecting a stillness onto the steep mountain walls surrounding it. As a gray tint floods this isolated lake. Dark clouds gather overhead. Without warning, Without sound, Larger snowflakes fall, Slowly drifting down from the heavens. Their movement stolen from them as they touch the glassy surface of Marshall Lake. Like the hope of...