Summer's End

The crab apple tree is starting to rot. His branches bend low, Soon to be fruitless. A silent recognition of the end, What is to come.

There’s a funeral home 10 minutes up the road, Too far to walk.

I wonder if I’d have to take the bus. Sit next to someone my age, Who looks so much older.

Summer is ending. Soon to be fall.

How horrible it is that death is so beautiful. A doe and her fawn cross the road. He will never be this size again. She watches the dusk of his childhood.

The sun is setting And we cannot stop it. The time will pass.

No matter how hard we dig our heels into today Tomorrow is bound to come.

— Caitlin Cottrill ’26, English

— Zohra Ahmed ’23, Psychology & Biology (Pre-Med)