April 23, 2026
Providence College's Student-Run Newspaper Since 1935
s n o w cover me—hide me—when I am overcome with woe s n o w comfort me—console me—when I...
Frankenstein’s creature was born not from dust,but from trembling hands that feared their own genius.The spark of life given to...
by Hanna Boudreau ’28 on April 16, 2026
Cherry Blossom boughs, Bows down to me. They say, “Hello, sweet.” Sweet is the smell of the air.
Birch tree limbs shake, Shake my hand. They are gentle and shy, “Shy Sky Blue” is the color of the horizon.
Oak’s branches swing, Swing to the bird’s songs with me. They know how to dance. Dance like the sun beams.
Spruce blow kisses, Kisses which rest on my brow. They listen to my stories, Stories lost in the wind.
