Writing From the Road: Roseau, Minnesota

And today’s poems, from Aaron Huglen, Henry Sanford, Christina Shepard, Nic Johnson, Jordan Moser, Adam LePard, Hunter MacFarlane, and Trevor Olsen.

My Dog Sugar
By Trevor Olsen

Sugar, how she

Runs in the summertime,

Her luscious gold coat

Shimmering in the sunlight,

Her playfulness

As she runs around with

Her old hardhat that

Turned toy. We chase

Her but can’t catch her.

She eventually lets us

Catch her, then tug of war

As she growls, you can smell

The fresh cut grass as we

Kick it up.


Roseau River
By Hunter McFarlane

The curved corners

Or the straight banks

Muddy concrete

Or even rocky

The sound of water

Going past the dam

The feel of a fish tugging

On your line

The smell of a slimy northern

Of the pain of a walleye fin poking you

One might go mad—all of the snags

But as you float down the river in a boat

Or stand on the bank

You will find pleasure

In the Roseau River.


By Adam LePard

White everywhere with

Breath in the air

Forts being built and

Snow being thrown

Laughter from kids with

Red noses and

Cold skin

Teeth freeze from

Snow meals

Hot chocolate waiting in

The house.


By Adam LePard


That is what I

Write and erase.

I make up new words

As I run across paper.

I sit in a backpack

Until I need to be used.

I cross out old words

A pencil

That is what I am.


Bass Fishing
By Jordan Moser

Glass-like water

Sounds of loons

A splash from a bass

I have my rod

I have my lure

A green wacky worm

On the kayak

I cast my lure

It hits the water

These are persuasive ripples

I gently tug on my line

Splash! A huge pull

I set the hook

The fight is on

I reel it in

The fish resists

I grab its lip

And show my cousin.


By Nic Johnson

Refreshing on a hot day

At a lake

Or a pool

As you dive through the water

You can feel your ears pop

And the wetness of your skin

Every stroke

You climb further to the other side

And once you hit the end

Your eyes burn from the water

Then you turn around

And start over

Now swimming even faster

Your arms hit the water harder

And the splash

Sounding like an explosion

Under water.


By Christina Shepard


They tried to pin me

To a corkboard

Like a butterfly

But the pin

Merely went through me

And away I flew.


By Henry Sanford


The sensation of a swing

The rusty chains

The creaking frame

The music blasting from headphones

The wind rushing through hair

Then jump

Nothing underneath

Falling down back to earth


Soft green grass




By Aaron Huglen

Sliding the mallow

Onto the stick

Putting it over the rising

Heat coming from

The fire, waiting for

The mallow to get golden

Brown and gooey, you

Take it off just before

It nearly slides off into

The fire and set it

On the golden cracker

With chocolate.

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