By Mitch Jasper, Co-Editor in Chief of The Spark To the dead rabbit on the side of the road I hope that’s all you are A dead withering bunnny I hope you aren’t any more than that I hope i didnt miss your oversized antlers Or your pheasant tail I hope haven’t been driving past a mangled jackalope everyday Because if I did Then that means something special Something magical and legendary Is dead And gone And that little magic that is still in the world Is gone Decaying on

Mitch Jasper, Co-Editor in Chief of The Spark I wish we didn’t have to make up things To keep nature special I wish we could just walk through the woods And see the beauty in the thousands of insects, And the lush moss And say “this is enough This is enough for me, and this is enough for us.” But instead, we spend hours looking for killer shapeshifters and insane moth men Instead of taking a breath And saying that we have And what we can see Is and always was enough

Rachel Ingram, who plans to attend the North Carolina School of the Arts for Stage Management, speaks at the Watauga Board meeting about the impact the Watauga Theater Department has had on her time at the high school. Photo credit: Charlie Stumb, Watauga Yearbook Carrie Bradbury, Review Desk Lead and Selah Greer, Editor of The Spark 175 students enrolled this year. Over 100 rehearsal hours for the spring musical. 65 Ross Auditorium events staffed by technical theater student

Terrariums are a low maintenance way to bring plants indoors. Our tutorial provides step by step instructions on how to make one at home. Photo Credits: Maud Boquillard, Unsplash Mitch Jasper, The Spark This how-to video can be accessed here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xf5SkLtqUKh8haqCgXVj72lDyIMzAFUc/view?usp=sharing

Photo credit: Selah Greer It engulfs the south. It eats away at old farms, power lines, and buildings. It comforts those who have grown accustomed to seeing it in their backyard. A sense of familiarity, and way to know that they're home. Falling asleep in its arms, you'd wake up entangled. It holds you close, not wanting you to leave it stranded once again. "Don't leave, I'm here to help" It offers itself to you. You'd rip away, with no promise to return. It will remain withi

As the Mothman exists alone Understanding and understood only by himself The mountain grooves lead him Up and down, left and right To where he can be set free from his thoughts For he will find his light again.

The flower blooms in the warning light The warning just before the Sun rises to ignite the sky And set aflame all my ghosts The petals unfurl in the dim blue The blue that drowns the world That I swim in peacefully I cannot bear to see it rebuild its walls To witness the end of a beauty Which is why I hide from mirrors But, in this moment, I am free from all burdens The flower is my soul My gentle glowing soul Easy breathing must end eventually Light creeps over the horizon

By Mitch Jasper, Co-Editor of The Spark This site features an interview with student Delilah Wurth about her poem, "Respect" highlighting the struggles of those who experience substance abuse and homelessness. To view the poem and interview, follow this link: https://sites.google.com/wataugaschools.org/respect?usp=sharing