by Hanna Boudreau ’28 on October 1, 2026
Portfolio
A blonde poet with eyes of sky,
Sat beneath a wisping willow
Watching a fluffy gosling waddle.
Upon its neck, a woven wreath
Of tangled vines and flowers.
The poet breathed in the petrichor,
The earthy scent of rainfall meeting soil.
A rumor whispered in the gale,
A fallacious promise of clarity.
But as the thunder crashed,
She saw through the storm’s disguise.
She threw the window open wide,
And let the wild gale rush in,
To defenstrate her papers there,
Scattering verses through the crisp air.