Facing upwards, smiling at the sky
the sunflowers whisper good morning to their mother as she rises.
she warms them, simultaneously warming my face as I stare out into the vast
in front of me.
golden and homey and
the only place I could go to get away from the overthinking
and loudness that college brings;
quiet hours don’t do anything to contain the rowdy, wild
students inhabiting my building.
running down the hallways
and playing ding dong ditch on each other.
but the meadow
makes me feel
as if the outside pressures drift away
concurrently with a cumulonimbus cloud.
this isn’t my patch; I just never see anyone else visiting.
and she understands my reasoning for being in such a desolate place
when my mind is the furthest thing from uninhabited.
and when my heart is the furthest thing from bruised
and battered – like the old building at the end of the field
that stands dilapidated, yet strong in defiance of its
outside stressors and problems.
I come here to forget
for a short time, hoping
to find home.
Angelina Troche is a senior at Saint Leo University. She is pursuing a BA in Creative Writing and enjoys reading poets like Tiana Clark and Tommy Pico.