posted on: Thursday October 3, 2019
this place, it felt
by Ariana Pasquantonio ’16 Alumna Portfolio Staff
like dripping in sun on the lawn, warm bricks,
like a top-bunk firework fever dream splitting
through closed eyelids,
and shadows, neat lines on canvas.
We Brave Life’s Hour
by Branan Durbin ’16 Alumna Portfolio Editor
The thing about Motherhood, even of Truth, is that her nature is to scatter:
no Mother will forever hold her child
in her arms, the home of her halls.
What blessing it is
that home is not a place,
but people: those with whom you break bread
when paths lead you to sow and reap.
How grateful I am
for bountiful homes, a bountiful harvest.
by Abby Johnston ’17 Alumna Portfolio Editor
Dozing off near a glittering koi pond,
With an emerald dogwood just beyond,
I dreamt a joy.
Recant to me the reed, O rain-voiced Muse
Pierce the root and drown my ears,
For my tongue falls fallow –
The echoes fade over long, old years.
Sing with me an eternal song, O river-sweet Muse
Of Athens and Jerusalem arrayed in gold and jewels;
Show me what may be sought –
Sing to me of a wedding knot!
Of Maps and Meanings
by Jonathan Coppe ’18
Do trees grow at dusk?
A white owl, drowsy at dawn,
Once sighed to me that heaven could be reached on foot.
I took him at his word and searched
Four years in vain for the never-setting sun,
Oft ambling unceasing through the night.
I find my feet are strong, my mind is sharp,
The maps of the world are known to me,
For, hating it so, I have learned to find my way at dusk.
Dawn rises on that owl’s one-time perch,
And here I genuflect at his mistaken wisdom.
The circle closes at last upon itself.
The path is not straight.
But, reliably, it begins again.