The Repeater | 2023-24

NotefromtheEditors

“Nature is not only all that is visible to the eye... it also includes the inner pictures of the soul.”

-Edvard Munch

We, the staff of The Repeater, are delighted to bring you this magazine, the work it contains, and the creativity it represents. We would like to take this space to thank everyone who made submissions and to acknowledge that this edition would not be possible without you.

It is our mission to reproduce the words, thoughts, and visions of the students of Cardinal Gibbons. We are honored to publish this magazine which acts as the medium for the creativity of our student body so that it can be shared both in and outside of our community. The works within this edition serve as a reminder that art is all around us and is only waiting to be created.

This year, we organized The Repeater around a theme of change, memory, and new beginnings. As we moved through the school year, we collected submissions depicting the greatest representation of change nature has to offer: the four seasons. We have created an edition that follows the change seen both throughout the natural world as well as throughout the lives of our artists. It was our goal to represent the seasons and their meaning with this edition: Leaves of Time.

Staff

President: Katherine Peevey

Vice President: Amelie Flagler

Secretary: Maggie Kozlowski

Media Officer: Cy Sagan

Art Liaison: Mei Cheng

Creative Consult: Matthew Bridgers

Advisor: Ms. Lauren Owen

Cover Art by Amelia Collins

The Repeater Volume 27 2023-2024

TableofContents

“Leaves of Time” Amelie Flagler- 6

Fall

“Wanting Anywhere Elsewhere” AJ Gebhardt- 7

“Better” Marley Wilson- 8

“Dead Leaves” Sophia Kelly- 9

“Fallen Soldier” Oscar Budd- 9

“Need to Ask” Adelyn Gleichauf- 10

“Falling” Genesis Zamora- 11

“Nature pt. 1” Kaitlyn Perez- 11

“As Seasons Change” Anonymous- 12

Winter

“Comfort” Mei Cheng- 13

“Seasons” Mary Lee- 14

“Daphne” Martha Nichols- 15

“Winter Wonders” Miller Kuss- 16

“Winter’s Jest” Meghan Carraher- 16

“Isopod” Milly Collins- 17

“The Boy Who Caught a Fallen Star” Katherine Leonte- 18

“Overentangled” Alex Kwak- 19

“Long Ride Home” Oscar Budd- 19

Spring

“Timeless Tranquility” Emma Aldredge- 20

“Seasons of Perspective” Maria Feldpausch- 21

“Blossoms of Spring” Ryder Lamar- 22

“Dino Crew” Megan Tylka- 23

“Sunrise Sunset” Kaylee Fitzsimmons- 24

“Nature pt. 2” Kaitlyn Perez- 25

“The Game” Jack King- 25

“Lyrical Bless” Martha Nichols- 26

Summer

“Missing Summer” Nya Folk- 27

“Seasons of Time” Olivia McGee- 28

“Summer Nights” Jack Adkins- 29

“Moon Line” Oscar Budd- 29

“Starfield” Oscar Budd- 30

“To the Dog in the Sky” Dylan Beck- 30

“The Cages We Keep” Kaylee Fitzsimmons- 31

“4:34 am” Nya Folk- 32

“Sundown” Oscar Budd- 33

TheLeavesofTime

Amelie Flagler

The Leaves of Time are an amber rust, Auburn, crimson in every gust, Sepia hues dance in the breeze, Maroon decor on cocoa trees.

Earlier on, the sun lays down, A litter of acorns across the ground, The air takes on a briskly chill, An apple pie cools on the windowsill.

Some days appear in misty fogs, Brilliant hazes on creaky logs, Vivid robins cruise through the skies, Filling the quiet with song-like cries.

Weeks pass by; leaves start to crisp, Ice spirals in frosty wisps, The aroma of fragrant pumpkin spice Soon becomes the chill of ice.

I glance outside; the branch is bare, The scarlet and bronze no longer there, I remember them now, gone with the dust, The Leaves of Time were an amber rust.

WantingAnywhereElsewhere

AJ Gebhardt

Better Marley Wilson

The quarter moon, white as a dove on the black, pockmarked horizon, watches the world unmoving from its perch in the clouds. Pinpricks of lights scaith the sky around it, falling like glitter around my eyes. Below my feet, fallen leaves crunch to my every movement. They smell of long-lost rains and yearning nostalgia. I see not the trees around me, their once brilliant colors cloaked by the weight of night on their bows I can only hear the sway of their branches, rustling and creaking against the would-be silence of the forest. In protest, a far-off owl coos morosely. It, too, is dreaming of some other time.

A chill catches the air, sending my hair up behind me in twists and curls against its will. It reminds me of a time in which I would have been happy to let myself float through the world unburdened by my differences and problems. However, that time is past. I pull up the hood of my coat, once again hiding myself. It is better this way; I have learned. Better I keep that hood up, snug and tied tight underneath my chin.

I don't know how long it has been since I have wandered the depths of the woods as I do tonight. I did, once, before I had changed, before I grew up. I was only a child then, unrestrained and wild I had brought a boy with me, hadn't I? A sad smile crosses my face as I remember the unruly caramel brown hair, the pale gray eyes wide with curiosity. He had been like me, thirsting for knowledge and adventure. Unsatisfied by the world. We'd chased the dusk with sticks as swords like it was a grand shadowy beast. We never did catch it.

I no longer run through the towering oaks and birches, but rather observe them with a tentative glance. I walk past them, still, barely lifting my head in reverence to them. It is better this way, quiet and unassuming. I don't disturb them anymore with my clambering, heavy footsteps. Rather, I trudge softly past them as a sophisticated spectator They prefer it this way

A stray leaf, weather-worn and beaten, makes its way from the limbs above. It spirals towards the ground, and something leads me to reach out and catch it. I rub my cold, dry thumbs over the veins, tracing their story into my mind. A story that will be no more once it hits the ground. When I was young, I would have sheltered the precious thing in my pocket, taken it home, saved it. Perhaps I would have nestled it into the waves of my hair, claimed it a natural vintage bow. However, those times are gone. I inhale sharply and drop the leaf to the ground. It is where it belongs now.

DeadLeaves SophiaKelly

Deadleavesfallingthroughthefrozenbranches

Whilewalkingthroughthebeaten-downpath

Rememberingpastwinters

Timepassedsoquickly

We’vegrown,allofus

Changecamewitheveryseason

Newbranchesandnewleaves

Newclothesandnewfriends

Itwassadtoseetheoldonesgo

Nevertheless,withoutchange,howwillwegrow?

Withoutnewbranchesandnewleaves,treesaresimplystumps

Withoutnewclothesandnewfriends,humansaresimplythesame

Thedeadleavesremindusofgrowth

Ofloss

Ofchange

Thankyouforallthepastmemories

Andthankyouforalloftheonestocome

FallenSoldier

OscarBudd

NeedtoAsk AdelynGleichauf

Falling GenesisZamora

Theyalwayssaytobecarefulnottofall,butfallingcan'talwaysbehelped,like fallinginlove.Fallinginlovewiththeendofhotsummersuns.Fallinginlovewith thestartofcoldred-nosedbunnyfacesFallinginlovewiththesteamofyourcoffee inchillyweather.Fallinginlovewiththewayyourdoglooksupatyouintheearly mornings.Fallinginlovewiththewayyourfuzzysockswraparoundyourfeet. FallinginlovewiththelaughoftheboyyoumetinOctober.Fallinginlovewith talkingtosomeoneuntil3:33amFallinginlovewiththewarmthofyourlover sittingrightnexttoyou.Fallinginlovewiththetransitionofblindingflowersto dancingleaves.IbelieveAutumnisalsoknownas“Fall”becausethisisthemonth wheremostbeginto“fall”inlove.Theysaytobecarefulnottofall,butsometimes it’sokaytojuststepforward;youmightjustenduplikeanAutumnleaf falling

AsSeasonsChange Anonymous

Change. That endless wheel of time that keeps turning no matter how hard you try to stop it or slow it down. He could feel it in the air now, the slight chill biting at his face, causing him to pull his flannel jacket closer around himself. The leaves were starting to change, and the musty smell of fall filled the air. Each day was shorter than the last, and it gave him the feeling that time was running out. Always running out. Soon they would pour down the street in their costumes and masks, demanding candy and enjoying ghost stories. Stories like his own. The boy brought his hand up to his face and watched his pale skin flicker and fade again. It had all felt so real. He was getting better at forming a visible body with his energy. For the first time since his death, he could really feel fall, the season he was drawn to the most. He sighed and let the cool air blow the rest of his flickering apparition away and watched the kids at the school. Highschool: he’d hated it when he was alive, but what he would give to go back now. He turned away from the memories and set his gaze on the stone in front of him, which had only a name and a date. A name and a date he knew all too well…

Aaron Jones

1970-1986

Winter

Comfort

Mei Cheng

Time goes as water flows

Seasons

Mary Lee

Seasons fly by fast as people's feelings change

Freezing wind greets me with a cold look while the warm spring greets me with a smile and flowers

The warm breeze and the spring wind goes away

The blazing sun ray appears telling spring to leave

The hot sun calls for people to play at the beach and children to get out of school

Many people go on a hunt for ice cream while others run and feel the warm sand near the windy beach

The hot summer calls for the cool autumn wind where fall’s greeting tags along

Fall brings Halloween where candies and sweets flourish

Children getting out the Halloween spirit by dressing up with costumes

Fall gives the blessing of food on Thanksgiving

The pumpkin spice and cinnamon scent plummeting many houses

The freezing winter chasing away Fall

Bringing its holiday season with its snowy weather

People lighting up their mistletoe candles

Bakers cooking up their favorite Christmas pastries

Every house decorating with holiday lights and Christmas trees

Families gather around the tree with beautiful shiny ornaments radiating their glow from the Christmas tree

In the end of the year, when the cold midnight brings the flashy fireworks splashing the sky with neon colors

Everyone on the Earth celebrating Happy New Year where we anticipate the start of the seasons all over again!

Daphne

Martha Nichols

WinterWonders

MillerKuss

The most wonderful time of the year

People always full of cheer

Snow falling lightly on the ground

Covering everything around

Christmas carols fill the air

Frosty snow in your hair

Celebrating love and peace Quickly go grab your fleece

Family gathered all around People all over the town

Santa Claus and his reindeer squad

Trust me, he is no fraud

Baking cookies all day long Always singing a joyous song Hanging garland on the tree

Christmas Day is sure to please

Leave cookies near the fireplace

Santa will come to eat them without a trace Holiday parties to attend

I hope the holidays never end

Winter’s Jest

Meghan Carraher

Isopod

Milly Collins

TheBoyWhoCaughtaFallenStar

Katherine Leonte

“Alright, I’ll tell you all the story.”

The man huffed a laugh as the children halted in their tracks and scrambled to sit beside the roaring fire “But we must wait until all of the stars are out, for it is a favorite of theirs to hear ”

The man’s eyes twinkled with mischief and the children hushed although the ambience of the night crept in, the chirping of camouflaged crickets and the snapping and crackling fire, which filled overeager faces with a rosy glow

There was a boy who caught a fallen star and as it descended, meandering down, the cosmos shuddered, the earth itself shaking underfoot, jagged cracks snaking along the bed of the howling river

The stars flickered out and blazed even fiercer, shoving the clouds aside to get a better look Even the sun opened its eyes sleepily to peer down at the sight, and the planets crept as close as they dared ”

“The boy marveled at his treasure and cradled it close to his racing heart, fire scorching onto his skin and charring his clothing.

But stars cannot linger on the earth and must return to seal their constellation, fighting back the endless void that threatens to crawl in and crush each fragile star to ashes

So the star dashed out into the sky without a backward glance and the boy was left with a weight on his shoulders and a grace that he could not understand His fingertips were brushed with metallic stardust, gleaming in silvery and bronze hues which pierced through the muted light as the dawn painted pastels across the sky It remained on his palms, as thick as scales, and left patches of stardust on all that he touched, but like a spark of hope, never died out, but shed once a month as the moon filled, curling into bronze and silver shavings

The astonished boy stepped out of the meadow, blissfully unaware of the brand on his soul, a tether between him and the star, amplifying his strength, endurance, and agility

A command was written in his mind as if he had been born with the knowledge to never let the shadows in and be the unfailing light in the darkness, but never to imagine or even consider that he might be a god, else they would let the darkness devour him

The boy grew into a man, marked with stardust on his soul and began to wield a crescent blade, forged from his very own hands, the hilt permanently stained with his stardust The blade glowed with the soft radiance of moonlight and the harsh ardence of the molten sun

The champion of the celestials, rebirthed from the stars

The protector of the earth, driving back the persistent darkness, which creeps into every crevice and crack of the earth, infecting nature itself with its bite and threatening to extinguish all that is alive.

“And so we tell the stories ” The man ruffled one of the sleepy children’s curls, tilting his head back to study the sky

“And if you look up into the sky, search for a jagged line of stars ” He pointed up at a constellation that seemed to grow brighter than all of the others in that moment

“There is the warrior with the radiant blade and stained hands, forever subduing the void, keeping it from the earth ”

OverEntangled

Alex Kwak

LongRideHome

Oscar Budd

Spring

TimelessTranquility

Emma Aldredge

SeasonsofPerspective Maria Feldpausch

Perspective is an intricate thing.

One may see the same element and perceive it differently. The seasons can be likened in this manner. Spring is thought to be the season of rebirth, for in its very nature is embedded the events of vegetation blooming and new beginnings. Animals awaken from the bleak, dormant shroud of winter into this apparently exuberant period.

Contrastingly, another may see it is as a time of anticipation. Summer has not yet arrived and the once snow-kissed world is melting away.

Autumn is a unique season.

The leaves that had survived the changing of the previous periods of heat and humidity, droughts and gales, are now bearing the effects of time One could cast a melancholy glance their way. They are a sign of another season ending, a new one beginning However, those same leaves can bring innocent delight as one acknowledges the foliage as a thing of sheer beauty.

The leaves are painted with streaks of orange the color of fiery copper and red the color of polished stones of ruby. The way they appear to dance in the wind as they delicately glide off the branches of the trees can be a sight of wonder.

It is very well to distinguish the seasons differently. In all their complexity it is in one’s nature to view it as such Though I like to believe that if we took some time to reflect on such things and appreciate some of the tokens of beauty that can be found in the world around us, maybe our own mindsets can change to better accommodate the presence of positivity.

BlossomsofSpring:ASakura’sMeaning Ryder Lamar

Beneaththeskysoblueandclear, Springwhisperssoftlyintheear. Sakurablossoms,pinkandbright, Paintthedayinpuredelight.

Amidstthebranches,asoftembrace, Ablushofpink,agentlegrace Petalsfalling,lightasair, Dancearoundwithoutacare Petalslikepaper,softandlight, Asparkofpink,apuredelight. Theydanceonbreezes,afleetingtrance, Asymphonyofbeauty,asweetromance.

Ingardensbrightenedwithblossomsfair, Thesakuraweavesdreamsintheair. Eachpetal,anoteinasilentsong, Amelodyofjoy,whereheartsbelong

Underthesakura,momentsunfold, Storiesuntold,inpetalsenfold. Storiesofhappiness,carriedonthewind, Ataleofbeginnings,wheredreamsbegin.

Whispersofloveinpetals,sosweet, Ataleofpeace wherelivesmaymeet

DinoCrew

Megan Tylka

SunriseSunset

Kaylee Fitzsimmons

-Impression, Sunrise, Claude Monet (1872, oil on canvas, Musée Marmottan, Paris)

Sunriselookslikesunsetinthemindsofthoseoldsailors

Whoawokebeforethecitystilllongbaskinginthestarlightglow Disappearingintoheavenasitmeetsthestartofmorning

Asthesunascendslikesoulswhooncelivedsacrificiallives

NowtheyrestuponaboatbuiltbythemenofFrance

Whosecrinkledeyesandcrackingpalmsonlyknewthetaskathand TogivethemightofGodtomanandtamethelawlesssea Apowerrestingsolelyinthewoodbeneaththeirfeet.

Invisionsblurredbythewhistlesandwhirsofsmokeandsteampushedouttosea Acurtainisdrawnbackbaringfortherestoftheworldalookintotherestoftime

Withsmokestackstracingthetipsoftheskyinwispystrandsofwhite Askyfollowingthesunriseslightlylaggingeverbehind

Paddlesofwoodstabintopeculiarwatersthatcannotdecidewhatshadeofgreentobe

Perhapspartsofitarefightingtoremainthecolorofitsyouth

Simplertimeswhenthewaterhadnothingtohide

Nowsecretsandsewageswallowthewoodenoreastheoldsailorsrow

Rootsandbranchesmaskedasfloatingmapsthatleadtohome

Driftfurtherfromthemotherlandthatrestsbeneathacloudofheavysteam

Asiftotelloldsailorstochasethesunsetlongreplacedbymorninggleam Andreturntoatimewhenthewaterwasn'tallthoseshadesofgreen

KaitlynPerez

TheGame

Jack King

Numberfourstandsthere,waitingonthebase forthehardballtostrikehiswaitingbat.He pausesandswings,andtheballleaveswitha “ding!”It’sahittoawaitingfielder’smitt.Four runs,buttonoavail Theshortstopmakesthe catch

That’showitgoes,anendlessseriesofcatch andthrow Playersfailorsucceed,andteams basetheirvalueoffthatalone Eachplayerruns fromoneteamtothenext,takingtheirwooden batwiththem,vexed Theyprovidepowerto swingafterswing,tryingtohit,allinaneffortto makethecrowdsingforthemandtheball

Thekeystothesportarewithintheroundball underablanketofroughcottonthreads.Ifit’sa catch,yousulkbacktothedugout,batstillin hand.Sogetahitandmakethedifficulttrekto first,awhitebaseonthedirt Spreadyourwings andsoarlikeaquick,agilebat,androundsecond, third,thenhometogetrunsafterruns Dowell enoughandearnenoughruns,andyou’llbe pickedupoutofthedirt You’llbehandedaball, givenafreshwoodenbat,andtoldtomakecatch aftercatch

You’llgrowoldwithyourteam,betheirstrong, solidbase,andprotectthemlikegold Ifthat meansgettinghit,lettheballstrikeyourskin, andruntofirstasifyoujustgotahit The stadiumwilleruptifyouscoreafewruns,andthe pridewillgostraighttoyourcranium Homebase willgetmuddiedbythedirtonyourshoe,and you’llgettheballwhichyouhit,totakehome, andstoreawaywithacatch.

That’swhatbaseballisallabout:winningthe gamewithyourbat.

There’sapowerfulfeelingthatcan’tbebeat: beingupatbat Yourinsidesareturning,stomach filledwithflies,withthedesiretogetahit,yet there’sanevendeepercravingthatitwon’tturn toacatch.You’llneedtobewater,coolasitruns throughyourhands,readytochangeyourswing withtheball.Allthatemotiontostandonabase.

Thebatearnsyouthosecovetedhitsthatplayers catchtostopyoufromracingtothenextbase, andit’salltoscoreacoupleofruns It’saspecial sport,baseball

LyricalBliss

Martha Nichols

-True Scale: 4' by 7', Acrylic on Canvas

SeasonsofTime

Olivia McGee

Time is an elusive little thing, determining so many of life’s choices in secrecy. It brings Spring, with its many young yellow-green leaves and new beginnings However, it is the source of blissful illusions and promises; assuring an infinite clock that only ticks when we need it to. But life, in reality, isn’t full of time; yet still so many take it for granted rather than making their only life count Their youth poisons them in a way, creating naivete to the reality of how quickly life flies by. They only focus on the new yellow-green Spring leaves instead of the falling, aging leaves of Autumn not too far ahead.

Autumn brings mature, yet beautiful times filled of the relatable nostalgia it contains. Bittersweet memories of the exciting youth of Spring, and the remembrance of the once-innocent hope that everything would always stay the same.

It carries within it a crisp, balanced wind, whispering about what used to be long ago; and displaying conflicting, yet artistic examples of how the time has passed.

The once-young, soft leaves now have bright, bold colors that shine a delicate spotlight on the beauty of age; before the leaves of change fall to their final resting place on the forest floor.

Autumn is a reflective time, reminding mortals that time is an elusive little thing.

SummerNights

Jack Adkins

In the heart of summer’s vibrant reign, Awakens a world of sunlit domain. Fields dressed in golden attire, Nature’s canvas, a masterpiece entire.

The morning sky, a canvas of blue, Kissed by the sun’s awakening hue. Birds paint melodies in the endless sky, As soft melodies in the treetops sigh.

A symphony of life, buzzing and alive, In the meadows, where wildflowers thrive Butterflies dance, bees tango in a spin, As each flower petal, tells a story within

Children's laughter fills the warm air, Their joy and wonder, beyond compare. Sandcastles rise by the beach shore, As crashing waves sing tales of yore.

There is nothing quite like the the summer nights, Not a worry in mind, not even a fright. And to this we reminisce on summer nights.

MoonLine

Oscar Budd

Starfield

Oscar Budd

TotheDogintheSky

Dylan Beck

When a boy loses his dog, With it he loses his smile

And his joy

There’s no more throwing sticks And playing fetch, Or cleaning pawprints.

There’s no more dog on the couch, And in the boy’s bed, Or lying on the floor.

His friend won’t be under the table

Or at the door waiting for him No more barking at cars Or people or squirrels, There are no more barks at all Now in his backyard he sits, Staring up into the night At the great dog in the sky. He feels comforted that Every boy before him who Missed their dog Saw the same stars

TheCagesWeKeep

Kaylee Fitzsimmons

When she awakes, she is a bird

And as she gracelessly runs off the cliff she starts to fly And feels the rushing wind on her reddened cheeks as she smiles And she finally gets to know what clouds feel like.

She flips upside down, just to test the limits of her newly realized powers

And in the middle of the sky she seeks an endpoint

Twisting around and holding her breath simply to see what it will take to fall Until she comes to the realization that she can’t fall

She is destined to fly forever and ever until the end of time when the clouds finally sink And even then she will still be flying, unable to come down with them

And it will be dark and quiet around her, which reminds her too much of home to be comforting She is an astronaut now, and this home is more void than even the emptiest promises of the cliff

Eventually she gets lonely, because she is the only bird in the whole world Who chose to run off the cliff in the first place Who closed her eyes and opened her mouth to say “no”

To the social norms and societal pressures that pushed her towards the cliff in the first place

Gravity doesn’t work on her like it does for the rest of them on the cliff Who seem to be there just so they can say they almost jumped, almost tried to fly As if that notion alone would be enough to defy society just a little Serving as an elusive representation of the words “ you don’t own me ”

And yet their contempt for the way the world works is nothing Compared to their concern for being alone, being an outcast And while the sky is clear and colorful, it is also empty, unlike the Crowded cliff filled with people who refuse to take loneliness as a side effect of flight.

So they pretend to be filled with revolutionary rage In hopes their stony leaders and social constructors haven't seen the likes of Spartacus

But they directed Spartacus And know the hunger for flight is illusory and can be sated with pills and pop culture

Once there was a girl that flew so high and so far, she touched the sun While everyone else watched from the ground in fits of restlessness

The girl wished she could fall

The world wished it could fly

But they were all just birds, forever locked in the cages of their impossible dreams

4:34am

Nya Folk

Sundown Oscar Budd