LOGOS
St. Paul’s Episcopal School
Volume 10
2023-2024
“Color is a power which directly influences the soul.”
-Wassily Kandidsky
Cover Art: Nyla Rodrigues
Logos aims to showcase the artistic and literary prowess of St. Paul's students. Entirely curated and edited by student editors, pieces are accumulated over several months, with final selections being made by the editors before the school year concludes.
Purpose: Editor’s Note:
Warm greetings to the new and returning readers. The Logos Staff is honored to yet again showcase your talents through the 2023-2024 Tenth Edition of Logos. Within these pages, you'll discover a vibrant array of art and writing from students in grades Pre-K through 12th. This edition is dedicated to the concept of color theory, the study of how colors work together in various media and their affect on our emotions and perceptions. At St. Paul's, we deeply value the role of art as a cornerstone of our educational philosophy, embracing its significance across all grade levels. From the earliest days in pre-K to the advanced explorations of juniors and Seniors in AP Art classes and English electives, our dedicated teachers nurture both the artistic and literary potential of every student. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to the students who bravely shared their work with us and to the teachers who have fostered an environment of trust and growth. Our team has worked diligently to craft a magazine worthy of your exceptional talents.
Warren Rainosek ‘29
My cat is fat
He is also cute
His name is Tuna
Like the fish
He eats from his dish
Untitled
Virgie Martin ‘25
Winter brings in the cold air
The wind is coming
The wind brings life and movement to everything
The wind sneaks through my window and tickles my toes
The wind blows through the branches
GinnyLu Howard ‘25
and makes the trees dance
The wind brings color in the sky as it blows the red and yellow leaves in the sky
The wind plays with my hair as it runs through each strand
The wind will speed up and sing a song
Winter Poem
B.G. Kerr ‘29
My eyes squint in the chilled air
My hot breath composes into a frosty mist
A man made of snow set before me
Button eyes and a carrot nose
The night wind hisses and whispers around us
His snow torso begins to jerk and pivot
Crooked ice sickles rip out of him
Rising on ice logs as they lift him off the ground
He looms over me
His button eyes fall to the permafrost
Jack-o’-lantern eyes carve themselves into his head
A mouth slits into itself revealing a row of frosty fangs
I don't know why I stood there
Watching in aghast
What was once a man made of snow was now a monster
The golem-like creature's eyes shimmered in the light of the moon,
Staring right through me.
A breath of hot air left its mouth
His patched top hat fell to the snow
A Day In The Workshop
Catherine Honeycutt
‘30
Icing is flying through the air. Ribbons lay scattered on the floor. A long list is getting checked away. What time is it? Christmas Eve. Presents getting packed up. The sleigh is getting a new paint job. Kids rolling the dough. Elves making last-minute presents.
Reindeer rearing to go.
But where is Old Saint Nick?
Mrs. Claus goes on the intercom, “Where is Santa!”
Icing covering the floor. Ribbons still scattered. Presents stopped flying. Paint job new. Kids now decorating. Reindeer stop rearing. Elves freeze.
Where is Santa?
Elves start searching. Reindeer now sniffing around.
Where is St. Nick?
Elves flood rooms. Reindeer flying. Rudolph’s nose lights the halls. Ribbons getting thrown. Icing splashing around. Down, down, down the chimney goes some dirt and a long list of names.
PLOOFP. There he is, now covered in ashes and soot. That silly old St. Nick!
Mia Stevens ‘25
Lauren Bixler ‘25
Elsa Precht, ‘27
December, 1908
Adaline Cratchit looked forward all year long to December. December meant Christmas, and Christmas meant that Adaline and her parents, Lord and Lady Cratchit, left their estate in Nottingham and traveled across the world to return to their winter home in Leavenworth, Washington. Adaline and her family had been traveling for three weeks when, finally, their carriage began down the snowy drive of Adaline’s personal winter wonderland. When the carriage came to a halt, Adaline barely waited for the footman to open the carriage’s door before she was bounding up the steps of the small castle.
As she opened the doors of the chateau, Adaline felt the majesty and cheer of the scene embracing her body. The grand staircase with the two biggest Christmas trees Adaline had ever seen. The trees were adorned with large glittering baubles, candles with snowflakes carved into them, and candy canes. Atop each tree was an enormous, shimmering star. Adaline stood for one more moment to embrace the beauty of the scene before she ascended the grand staircase to her own bedroom.
As Adaline entered her chambers, she stood still in awe at the sight before her. The room was breathtaking. The same candles from the trees in the entrance hall illuminated every corner of the room. On the mantle of her fireplace, small sculptures of angels and snowflakes glowed, illuminated by the fire below them. Adaline’s bed looked like a winter forest. Her comforter was the color of an evergreen tree, with golden embroidery that created images of woodland creatures playing in the snow. Tied to each of her bedposts was an ornate white canopy that resembled falling snow.
As Adaline gazed at the beautiful room, she noticed a letter sitting at the foot of her bed. She bent down to pick it up. On the back of the envelope, Adaline’s name was written in fancy script. The letter wasn’t sealed. Adaline began to take out the letter when she was startled by a maid informing her that she had a visitor downstairs. Adaline hesitated before leaving the letter on her bed to open it later. As Adaline made her way into the foyer, her eyes lit up. Sitting upon a chaise was Lord Arthur Carlton. Adaline ran into Arthur’s arms, and he joined in the embrace. Adaline then realized that the author of the letter on her bed was the same person holding her in his arms. When she read the letter later, her suspicions were confirmed by the elegant confession of love created on the paper.
Adaline Cratchit looked forward all year long to December. December meant Christmas, and Christmas meant that Adaline returned to the love of her life and her favorite place in the world.
McElroy ‘27
Moonlight Shadows
Belle Autio ‘26
In the sparkle of the moonlight shadows cast, Where the heart finds love, yet not repose, I stand in the embrace of a love misplaced, Amazed by the hues of a distant gaze.
His eyes, pools of the ocean blue, His hair, a cascade of the earths embraces, Tall and muscular, a silhouette bold, Yet gentle like the fall of flower petals.
In the fields of memories, we danced, Amongst whispers of laughter and stolen glances, A symphony woven between our lives, Yet sometimes fate unfolds in bitter romances.
Beside the moonlit shore, our footsteps danced, Only the sand contains these moments, forever embraced, Alas, there must be a cruel twist in fate, For his heart beats for another, far away.
Only in my dreams, I paint our tale, A mural of passion, destined to fail, His affections bestowed on another's vine, Leaving my heart adrift, as a ship lost at sea
So let these verses linger in the air, A story for love, that I must bear, For in the garden of his affection, I'll remain, A bloom unnoticed, in the cold and lonesome rain.
Sheriff Gary and the Great Water Gun Fight
Jack Reardon ‘32
Sheriff Gary was the dorkiest sheriff in the Wild West. He was eight feet tall, wore his hat upside down, and pinned his pin on backwards. But he was a skilled water gun fighter, and anyone who dared challenge him would fail.
One day, Bandit Bart, the best water gun shooter in the Wild East, challenged Gary to a duel. The rules of the duel were that the first person to get squirted three times would lose. Everyone circled around Gary and Bart.
3, 2, 1, Go! First, Gary shot and missed. Next, Bart shot and he got him! Gary only had two lives left. Gary squirted and he hit Bart! Now both of them had two lives left. Gary shot again, but Bart dodged it. Bart shot. He got Gary. One more life for Gary! Gary shot. He got Bart. Gary shot again and hit Bart. Gary won! After that, Gary and Bart teamed up and became the best water gun tag team in the world.
TheEnd
Alex McElroy ‘27
Reid ‘25
I froze in my steps. Motionless like a deer in headlights. Hands bursting with excitement as I reached for the door. Days, weeks, months it has been since the last embrace of my dearest companions. My mind flooded with the memories of past days together, and a heart soaring with the promise of a joyful reunion. My eyes finally meet theirs, the warmth of friendship flooding my heart, as we stepped together through the threshold of that familiar door.
Clouds
Ann Thomas Lamar '29
I quite like the clouds, their fog is a comfort to me
Their grey hues and silent demeanor are much like my own
It is a feeling I can't quite describe, but sometimes words are too exhausting, and we must only enjoy the moment, even if we don't quite understand it ourselves.
But sometimes it rains on me, and I am cold, and tired
Even when I am wrapped in a warm blanket, it still lingers and follows me everywhere I go
My face is wet, my hair is wet, my clothes are wet, and I am utterly miserable
Yet it still rains on
I don’t really understand if we were friends, or enemies, or if we will never be anything
But I know the clouds are special to me, weather they care or not
The Eye of a Storm
Oliver Cross
‘25
The ocean is calm, the ocean is rough
The calming day before a storm
A beautiful sunset before the storm Takes and steals the blue and orange Skies, turning to dark grey clouds
With loud thunder and lighting
A smile on a face taken. In an instant
The blue skies, the spark gone, Taken by the storm
Ivey Marston, '26
In The Depth of the Night
Belle Autio '26
The low hum of the car’s engine filled the eerie silence that enveloped the dark, desolate backroad. The moon cast feeble rays of light through the thick canopy of gnarled trees, that loomed like ancient sentinels on either side of the narrow, winding path. Raindrops splattered against the windshield, distorting the view of the twisted branches.
In the passenger seat, Michelle sat, gripping the armrest with whiteknuckled intensity, her eyes narrowed as she peered into the dark abyss ahead. Her daughter, Lily, sat confidently behind the wheel, despite her limited driving experience.
“You think we’re getting close?” Lily asked with a shaky voice.
Michelle glanced at her daughter, eyes weary but full of trust, “Just a little longer sweetheart, and will be at Grandma’s.”
Lily's knuckles turned white as she clung to the steering wheel in fear. The fog grew denser, obscuring her view of the road ahead. The headlights of the car cut through the mist, revealing eerie shapes and shadows that seemed to dance on the edges of her vision.
She finally broke the silence, her voice trembling. "Mom, I don’t like this. It feels so creepy outside"
Michelle tried to reassure her daughter, but her own unease was growing by the second. "It's just the fog, sweetie. We are almost there I promise."
As if on cue, a figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, illuminated by their headlights. Lily slammed on the brakes, the car skidding with a screech of tires.
"What was that?" Lily exclaimed, her heart pounding.
Michelle's heart raced as she peered through the windshield, trying to make sense of the figure in front of her. Was it real? Was it a dream? It looked like a man, dressed in tattered, blood-stained clothing, his face obscured by long matted hair.
"Stay in the car Lily." Michelle whispered as fear escaped her voice.
The figure slowly approached the car, his movements jerky and unnatural. Michelle fumbled for her phone, desperately trying to dial 911, but all hope was lost. There was no signal.
"Mom, I'm scared." Lily whimpered from behind the wheel.
The figure reached the driver's side window and suddenly slammed his palms against the glass, leaving smudged handprints in the condensation. Lily screamed, her heart pounding as she fumbled with the car keys. She managed to start the engine just as the figure lunged at the window, his face twisted into a grotesque grin.
The old sedan roared to life, but as Lily tried to swerve around the figure, their car collided with a tree. The impact sent them both reeling, both crying out with terror as the world spun around them.
Gasping for air, Michelle managed to unbuckle her seatbelt, and she turned to Lily, "Quick, we have to get out of the car, it's not safe here!" ~42~
The two of them crawled out of the wrecked sedan, their hearts skipping a beat. The fog had grown thicker, making it impossible to see any more than a few feet ahead.
They began to run through the dense woods, every step feeling like a journey into the unknown. Unseen eyes watched them from the shadows, and strange, unsettling sounds echoed through the trees.
As Lily and Michelle ventured deeper into the woods, they realized they were utterly lost, and the horrors of the night were far from over.
Anna Harper Brand '26
I could never comprehend
So many types
How could all of them fit into my head? Is to love to date? Is love to give or take?
Romance is the only thought that came to my head When the word "love" was uttered or said. Roses in a shiny vase.
A letter with a kiss mark at the base. When I thought of you the lines were jumbled. When I saw you I couldn't tell why my heart fumbled. Did I see you as a friend?
Or did I see you as more?
What would my parents think if I brought you to my door?
Or a light romance?
Was this intense platonic?
I couldn't even tell. I couldn't comprehend.
B.G.
Kerr ‘29
Love and Hate
Caroline LaGrave '25
The phantasy of them dances around inside a head filled with heartache and anxiety. Scenes of romance flicker and fade, reliving memories of bittersweet remembrance. The heart and brain bleed with the fragrance of what used to be. Yet, reality snaps its whip of realization, awakening a mind to tragedy and recollection. The heart mourns the empty space, while the brain continues to replicate the missing feelings.
The smoke seeps and coils into the cavernous cuts of disloyalty.
Boiling lava flares up at the sight of a confidante’s peering eyes. Shrieking, gritting, flaming fears remember the words stamped into the mind. An echo of poignant times reverberates with waves of friendship gone astray. The eyes shimmer with a glaze of longing while the mind reminds that things are ever changing.
Summer
Emory Horton ‘29
Summer, why couldn’t you stay longer?
You always do this you leave right when I need you. I miss your radiant smile shining down on us, the glimpse of sunshine reflecting on the ocean.
I miss the cool sighs you gave once in a while. When the air was hot, heavy, and hard to take in you found a way to help me breathe.
I don’t miss your temper.
You seemed to be so mad this year.
For weeks your heat
You were barely sad, for your tears came few.
The flowers in my garden turned dark from sadness and thirst.
Most of all I miss the time you gave me.
Almost too much
I got bored of sleeping in during the day and staying up late at night. Summer come save us.
School is back to take our joy and happiness.
Why couldn’t you be brave this year?
Why did you get scared?
Thanks to you, we are now locked away for eight hours. Well, it's too late now.
It's almost September, therefore, you should be long gone.
Better luck next time, Summer
I hope you find your courage through this long break of ours
So long, Summer
Maybe, hopefully next year you'll stay a little longer.
Heat Poem
B.G. Kerr '29
You walk out, new places, new people, and a As soon as you walk out of the chilly comfort of your home
new temperature.
you immediately sigh, the uncomfortable warmth suddenly engulfs you. Walking out feels like trying to walk around in a warm bathtub from all of the humidity.
The grass as a yellow-brownish tint due to the lack of water.
You can hear the buzzing of practically every insect in the trees, the grass, every bush and branch.
The sounds of lawnmowers not letting you forget your misery.
The Sun looking like a giant overhead holding a flashlight down onto you, beating onto you, so bright you could barely look up without having to squint your eyes.
The uncomforting feeling intensifies, sweat beginning to drip from your forehead, in your armpits, your neck.
The crunches underneath your feet as you step on the dead leaves seemed to be the only satisfaction you would get on such a miserable day.
Every summer the heat only gets higher and higher.
The pollution, factories, and others only tugging the temperature higher.
So many companies "turning green" but with each fixed issue there comes another complaint.
Another problem without a solution.
What a miserable, miserable day.
Untitled
Ashby Thorneycroft ‘27 I
Shines its light
Into the dark night,
Until the raging
Blue oceans become
Calm and run dry.
I will love you
Until the end of time.
Untitled Belle Autio '26
Heat advisory remains in effect until 7 pm this evening: The Sun beats down outside, its rays reflecting off the glass and concrete buildings. The temperature rose to unfathomable heights as everyone raced to escape the burning light.
Those who ventured outside for food or supplies would find themselves drowning, slowly sinking, into the depths of their own sweat.
Some found it difficult to breath, their throat and lungs aching with each breath. Everyone praying on their knees, that the merciless Sun would finally dip below the horizon and relieve them from its pervasive beams.
Prayers began to be answered as stormy clouds darkened the sky. Each droplet bringing a sense of hope along with it.
Surrounded by stars, Reflecting off all cars,
Always glowing, Pain never showing,
Alone in space, Not present in any case,
Up in the sky, Your beauty is never shy.
146 moons, Majestic as I’m swooned,
How you shine, While couples dine,
You always stay, Even when I look away.
Seven rings, As your heart stings.
Surrounded by many, Your moons and rings are plenty.
Saturn
Victoria Purdum ‘26
Eternally alone, You spin but never roam.
Moons communicate, As you illuminate.
Never begging for attention. Existing in separate dimensions,
My heart is blue, Incapable of reaching you.
Each night, You brighten my sight.
Most eyes look towards the Moon
Each and every afternoon.
I look towards you, oh Saturn How your rings create a pattern, Your moons, Deep as lagoons
My heart is full, Warm and stuffed with wool
Forgetting all who hurt, And my imperfection first
A beautiful creation, With insufficient explanation
I examine your beauty, As others stay moody.
Jealous of the atmosphere, Opinions travel through the stratosphere.
Oh Saturn, Your beautiful pattern,
And your glowing light, Throughout lonesome nights,
Is never changing. My love is never exchanging.
Oh Saturn, you may be sixth, But my mind will always be fixed.
Three away, Where my heart will always stay.
TEETH
Stella Duran ‘24
The teeth adorn the mouth like tools on a pegboard.
Teeth are bone and calcium.
They are used to aid in a creature’s digestion of food, To break, to rip, to cut its meal.
There is one missing, on the left side towards the back, So the meat and juice and flesh seep through As if through a crack in a dam caused by an oversight. The meat is gritty and tough in places And oozes blood.
Teeth cut through the hard parts, though, Like his used to.
Blood tastes sweet, metallic. The minerals provide strength and nutrition.
His life makes it sweeter.
He had complained about his teeth causing him ailment, But all he ever did was complain In the mornings when he woke next to his wife And did not tend to his teeth.
He could not be bothered.
The meat sours quickly, so it must be eaten. It is so much better raw like this. Besides, teeth are made to rip and tear, And they do. They tear through the flesh, The cracking sound of tendons and muscles filling the silence. Marrow is sucked from the bone, And the teeth aid in scraping meat from skin. But the skin, too, is eaten eventually.
His wife will wake the next morning and need not worry About the rancid smell from his kisses, And the sound of his voice, Always complaining.
For I had been hungry,
And he had tasted so perfect. ~64~
Lauren Carr ‘35
Shree Kambhatla ‘30
Sophie Smith ‘32
Alex Stokley ‘30
Watching the Window
He lurks out the window. I see him now: small and clawed. Brown and fuzzy, lush fur bristling in the wind. I prowl. I leap! Slam! The enemy skitters away. Delighted with myself, I lounge on my bed in the kitchen.
Being the protector of the family is far from easy. I have to keep out potential intruders and always be on high alert. From neighbors, to the dreaded mailman, to evil squirrels, the list of criminals never exhausts. As I fade into a blissful nap, the gate near the kitchen silently creaks ajar. My eyes snap open, but my body remains motionless. Mentally, I am the security ninja. Physically, I am asleep. Thankfully, it’s just one of my people. Maybe, just maybe, I can get her to scratch my butt. “Bucky!” she coos. She scratches behind my ears. “Who’s a good boy?” I am the good boy. I just know. She sneaks me a treat and flies out the door, anxiously chittering about being late for something. Ah. Silence. I’ll just close my eyes…
Snap. How long have I been out? There’s people in the kitchen again. I stretch my groggy little legs and briskly waddle towards the table. The humans do this every night. Circled around with food, they bark at each other and dine. Sometimes, they woof happily. Sometimes, angrily. Once, Mom fed me a piece of chicken. It was a great day. But every day, without fail, they sit and bark and eat until the Sun goes down. I patrol the table, anxious for scraps. Let’s review: one girl, two girls, three girls, four girls, Mom, Dad, BOY?? Who is that!? I sniff him suspiciously as he teeters in his chair between Beth and Abi. We make eye contact, and I can see the fear in his eyes. He must be new. Dad calls my name. I trot over to my spot, right next to him. This is my absolute favorite part of the day. Something is always going on. Beth is laughing, Brooke is laughing, and Abi is dropping scraps for me on the floor. Grace is there too. And these are my girls. This is why I do what I do.
I would do anything for my girls: eat the mailman, patrol the kitchen, even attack the squirrel outside the window. If only they could see themselves the way I do. Whether at their highest or their lowest, I’ll love them regardless. One day, I know that they’ll walk out of that door and never come back. They will grow up, like leaves on a tree, and eventually fly away in the wind. But I’ll always be here, where they need me. Watching the window. Begging for scraps. That’s just what I do. No matter where they go, I will love them with all my heart. I might just be a small fraction of their lives, but they will be the entirety of mine. And I will spend it protecting them.
What can I say?
Saudade
Jackson McCoy ‘26
Let’s orchestrate a ballade to the Saudade, I feel for Christmas Day, evening’s late, meaningless fate, There was snow in second grade; there was nothing more important than watching it lay, Nothing more important than my bliss in evening’s late, And second grade, And Christmas Day,
Let’s dance to romance and the childhood trance, I haven’t felt since I last saw snow on sand, Pensacola Beach, frozen palm trees, and the sea perchance, Back when life fell into place by happenstance, Back when life smelled alive like snow as it lay, In evening’s late, In second grade, On Christmas Day, Saudade.
Getting Ready for Winter
Olivia Kumar ‘29
It is time to get ready for cold weather.
Winter is the season of cozy sweaters,
Fill your cup with hot chocolate to make you feel better.
I will sit by the fire forever and ever.
Heat
Emory Horton ‘29
As I lie in my lounge chair listening to the sounds of the rock waterfall flow to the pool I'm relaxed and calm
But as soon as I open my eyes and the salt water from my skin runs down I remember how hot it is
The sweat gets in my eyes and it stings
The Sun's rays are no longer warming like in the fall they are burning
It's no use to close my eyes again because the Sun is so radiant it shines through my eyelids
Now that I think about it my lounge chair is no use either
After it sat there for hours soaking up the hot Sun like a sponge it then releases the heat onto me
Just like a sponge releases water I can’t get in the pool because just like the chair it has soaked up the Sun
The pool is no longer refreshing and relaxing It is now bathwater
The Sun is eating away at my skin making it red
I then remember how it could be hotter
The pool could be warmer
The Sun could be brighter
After all it's only June
There is more heat to come
But this is how it will be from now on
I have a while ‘till I start school again
I should've known how
Cecilia Gregory ‘35
Wintry Love
Neely Kate Benton ‘24
Our friendship grew in July
Under
the bright summer sun
It felt meant to be I loved you
Like the clouds love the sky I watched you like sunrise and set
‘24
Bri Jackson-Floyes
The trees died and the leaves fell You grew away And turned cold
We never became anything
But we were something I like to think
Can I melt your heart of ice?
Before it freezes in December?
Or will I wait here forever.
McElroy ‘27
Being a Woman
B.G. Kerr '29
Being a woman. It is beautiful
And it is ugly
It’s the gift of being able to give life
And it’s the wadded pad in the trash
It’s the gorgeous dress you wear to the ball
And it’s the compliments you get that always go too far
It’s having products made only for you
And it’s the same products that are charged more because they’re pink
Being a woman can mean so much
And it can mean too much
It means you’re empowering
We have had to prove ourselves for every right we have today
Yet we are still unbalanced
Being a woman
It’s being told you’re going to have "changes" to your body
Being told to buy pepper spray, tasers
To cover your drink
Never walk home alone
Stay in groups
Pull down your skirt
Always watch your back in public
Being a woman
It’s doing your nails
Getting your hair done
Makeup that took hours
And getting dolled up and loving yourself for it
Being a woman
It’s pulling up dirty work pants
Running your fingers through the grimy mud
Climbing fences
Putting a trucker hat on your messy ponytail
Being a woman
It’s lying in bed
Eating chocolate
Netflix and what you wished was chill
Agonizing pain
Serving your monthly sentence
Being a woman
It's looking pretty when you cry
And ugly when you sob
It is one of the most beautiful things
And also the ugliest
Today is Valentine’s Day! Our teacher told us! I shouted, “But, who wants to be my Valentine?”
Robby (My Enemy) said, “Nobody!”
“Settle down class,” said the teacher, “Speaking of Valentines, we are all going to have a Valentine!”
“I want Grace!” I called out.
“You don’t get to choose, you pick out of a jar.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. Robby laughed a little. I glared at him. “STOP!” I said through gritted teeth.
“Anyway,” said teacher, “We are going to pick right before snack time.”
Finally, after two hours of waiting we got to choose! But guess what? I got Robby! It only lasted one day so I only had to write one valentine to him. But I didn’t know what to write! Oh! I’ll just write ‘care for others’ on it! So the next day I slipped it in the jar and sat down.
“Let’s find out who our Valentines are!” I went first! I looked at it and smiled at Robby. Robby had got me! He wrote ‘XOXO’. And from then on we were friends!
The End.
Sloan Murphy ‘37
His New Warmth
Bennett Brown ‘24
He looks north out into the cold, A door crooks into the unknown. henceforth he cannot feel but alone, From you he had nothing left to hold.
His jacket wraps him like you would, A comfort against the brute outside. That facet which you always assured, Broke like his zipper did outright.
With no layers to dissuade the cool, You left him alone, dismayed; so cruel. The man with a broken layer, Had no chance against open nature.
The cold bit him like a dog, He was writ in the world’s cog. Sleeveless, bear for his heart, Winter fared with disregard.
Yet when I saw him travel alone, I baffled him with the gift of my coat. So broken he accepted with dismay, This token erased your effect of decay.
How you broke him with such ferocity, When he was such a valuable commodity.
Audrey Kate Smith '25
My Clouds Poem
John Gill ‘29
I look up at the sky
I see all the clouds
Some hate them, And some love them
I am a lover, but some are partial lovers
Some love the white fluffy ones but hate the dark stormy ones
Some love the pink one, But hate the dark stormy ones
Some hate them all around,
But, I am a lover, and love them all I do
Audrey Kate Smith '25
Who Could’ve Thought?
Helen Rachel ‘29
Something was waiting, something I could not foresee. I hadn’t gotten to know her yet, and she didn’t know me.
Completely different, we began to know the phrase. Opposites attract, or so they say.
The time flew by,
I don’t understand how.
So fast, I ask, “When did we meet, two years ago now?”
She’s a girl to confide in, someone to trust. Next to hers, my other friendships are simply unjust. She is my best friend, one I’d never want to leave. With her, I feel safe, like I am finally free.
Family Time Cam Wrights ‘29
Love is family time
Cousins, uncles, aunts, and friends
Laughing, talking, making amends
Love is cherishing a new friend
Love is gentle patient and kind
Without a doubt best of all time
Love is a hug, a smile, and a wave
Love can be a warm embrace
Sam Frazer ‘29
Josie Moses ‘29
The Sound of Spring
Oliver
Cross ‘25
A fog in the morning, the sound of birds singing.
A bird you can hear but not see,
A song on repeat
Brings a smile to my face.
The world awakes from winter’s slumber. Blossoms burst in vibrant bloom, Chasing away the winter's gloom.
A sense of relief goes through my body.
I feel the warm sun hit my skin.
The scenery of green and blue
The sunset in the horizon
The sweat when you’re outside too long
The smell of dew early in the morning,
A long winter pain is gone.
A painkiller in disguise with Gentle rains that nourish the land.
As nature’s touch, so tender and magnificent, Carpets of green are everywhere you look.
Life everywhere, thriving.
A raindrop hits Earth's surface
Kissing it with its nurturance, Making the Earth green once again.
Untitled Fiona McCulloch ‘32
I see the green grass grow, the melted snow I breath all of it in as I sit and feel the wind against my skin. The daffodils oh what a thrill Spring now has begun. I tumble down upon a hill and feel the morning sun. No longer cold the warmth so bold, I spot the blooming farms.
I know I feel safe in spring’s loving arms.
Aneliese Waldrop ‘24
Winter’s Withering Bells Counselman ‘27
As the cold rolls in, I wish I could hide away.
Because along with the cold, the decrepitness creeps in.
As the seasons change I wish I could too, I wish that the chill in the air would freeze over everything that is wrong with me and when the sun comes home from vacation, its warmth would defrost my heart.
I wish that along with every new beginning of the season, I would become someone new, someone recognizable.
But as for now I sit in this uncomfortable room called life as the cold rushes in and takes it all from me even though I have nothing left to be taken.
Candy Cane Murder
Caroline LaGrave ‘25
Streams of chilling air sneak through the cracks of the frozen-over window. The snow lays across the back wooden patio, flickers of blood splattering and staining the fluffy white mounds. A small, modest house blended in among the numerous copies at the end of a cul-de-sac. In the overwhelmingly large city of Natire, no one would notice if another identical house became vacant seemingly overnight.
A scream is hushed by a heavy hand, cracked nails stabbing into the intruder’s forearm. The woman slams her heels into the opposing knees and shins, fighting against the false euphoric sense overtaking her body. Arguing with her mind, she continues scratching at the man behind her, attempting to flee from the alarming situation. With her last remaining consciousness withering, she surrenders to the darkness, with the feeling of a sharp object protruding through her clothes.
Small crackling of fireplaces and children giggling dance among the dread hanging over the city. Rampant unsolved murders and rape incidents overtook the ordinary news of the latest Christmas gifts and new hot cocoa flavors. Detectives and police officers scurried around the city in hopes of finding culprits, yet no evidence ever appeared other than the remains of a candy cane at the crime scene. Christmas time became a burden among the city folk, as parents began to let go of the festive tradition. Some say the murders continue, but the police keep it on the downlow to hopefully raise the city’s spirits back up. We’ll never know, until it returns next year.
Into the Woods
Polina Gracheva ‘24
I tread through the forest, snow crunching underneath my boots. My eyes scan around the scenery. Everything is under a thin fabric of darkness that is only highlighted by my flashlight. Each time the flashlight flickers towards its death, I smack it multiple times to ensure it stays awake. It doesn’t help that my vision is already being limited by the darkness, and the thick pine trees that crowd together make nothing visible past a few inches. The straw leaves cluster together so that I can’t even look up towards the stars. Not even the moon could shine past through, so my flashlight is my only guiding light. I let out a few whistles in hopes of gaining my dog’s attention. I had let him outside to go to the bathroom, but now he’s gone. With his footsteps abruptly ending in this forest, I have no other choice other than to go look for him. I just hope that he’s actually at home…
Another whistle is met by silence. My other hand grips onto the axe I’ve brought along. Bears or wolves aren’t a common sight, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I let out a sigh, watching how it becomes visible due to the extreme cold here. I am about to call out for my dog when I hear familiar barks.
Maxim? Is that him?
It sounds like him, but it felt… off. It felt like it was distorted but just barely. Whatever, I need to make sure Maxim is okay over there. Ignoring the sudden goosebumps as some reaction to the cold, I head towards the direction of the sound. Each step I take towards Maxim puts a heavy weight on my body. The crunch of snow underneath my feet continues until it sounds like there’s an extra pair of footsteps. I stop moving to check. The noise doesn’t stop. However, there is a crack that catches my attention.
A bone crack.
I slowly turn my head towards the crack with my flashlight following right behind. When the light shines upon the location, my face pales.
A creature that appears to be in the shape of a reindeer has its back towards me with its head towards the ground. Its body is significantly bigger than a reindeer which is strange. However, there are gaps in the reindeer’s body that reveal the bones and organs inside it. The flesh is decaying with some of the fur flapping loosely from its body. There seem to be long strands of vine-like vegetation that hang from its neck with fungi sticking out from the top. With the strange appearance of an herbivore, it only makes my gut churn when I hear the sounds of bones cracking and crunching from it chewing.
It soon lifts its head which only made its appearance worse. Th would rival a bear with ease. The height isn’t the problem but its face is. The face clearly decayed for a long time with no skin or fur nicely attached to it anymore, displaying the disgusting view of its skull and twitching muscles that somehow remain intact. Its antlers add more height with the ends oddly sharp with different meat attached like some disgusting kebab. The dark stains on the jaw and teeth make my body freeze. It has no eyes, but it feels like it could still see me.
My gaze glances over at whatever is on the floor as its feast. My blood runs cold when I see just a mess of organs and intestines splayed out on top of the possible canine. I can only assume that it was a wolf before my eyes shoot back up to notice that the reindeer beast is staring directly at me. The pitch black in the eye sockets make my stomach twist. My hands tighten their grip around the axe and flashlight. I watch dark red liquid ooze from its jaw, staining the snow underneath it. It looks hungry.
I widen my eyes when my brain pieces together what is going on. This thing shouldn’t naturally exist.
I take a step back with my boot crushing the snow. It quickly charges at me. I barely manage to get out of the way. My axe swings immediately.
Lauren Bixler '25
It lets out a distorted cry and yanks its neck away from me. My hand slips, and I watch the axe remain firm deep inside its neck. My body freezes up at the spot. Oh no.
I try to grab onto the handle, but the beast clearly knows my moves. Its antlers serve as a shield and often cut along my skin. I groan at the stinging sensation that haunts my body. I can’t fight this thing. I need to get out of here.
I quickly turn around and just run. I run as fast as I can. I could hear the footsteps of the beast chasing right behind me along with its heavy breaths. It’s going to be faster than me. With how close it’s getting, I do a sharp turn.
I glance over to see it slow down in order to make the turn as well before it gets back on track. I continue to run. My legs burn as sharp pain shoots through my body. My breaths are getting heavy.
After a moment, I notice in the distance some warm glow. That must be the village! I continue to run until I realize that I don’t hear the footsteps anymore. That’s strange…
I look over my shoulder to notice that the beast is gone. I slow down to a stop as I examine the area. Did it really just disappear like that?
Not letting this moment go to waste, I decide to spare my body the exhaustion as I stumble my way towards the warm glow. As I get closer, I can spy past the trees a familiar building. I’m home! I even hear Maxim barking!
. . . Barking?
I notice a shadow in the window that seems to resemble a dog. How did he get inside? Did I forget to close th-
“AAHHHHHHHH”
I drop the flashlight and clutch around my stomach when I felt my entire body burn at some injury. I let out screams of pain as I look down. Multiple sharp, bright red bones stick through my entire torso and stomach. My eyes widen at the sight before I look over my shoulder to see the strange beast again. This time, its head is down with its antlers right through me. How did it-?
I feel my throat fill up with some liquid as I cough through my screams. I watch as I throw up blood from my own mouth. My hands grip onto the antlers and try to push me off, but every movement makes me scream in agony. Why does everything seem to be getting darker?
I look up to see the house still gleaming as my vision blurs. A ring fades into my ears as I can barely hear my own breath. Everything was getting dark. No, I can’t leave Maxim. I still need to find… him…
The creature soon lifts its head, carrying the now limp body in its antlers. It turns around and heads back into the haunting forest. The only thing left behind is the flashlight. It flickers for a few moments before shutting off for good.
Untitled
Ashby Thorneycroft ‘27
In the hush of winter's breath, a frosty tale unfolds, A world transformed by glistening silver and azure cold. Blanketed in whispers, the earth in slumber lies, Beneath the Moon's soft glow, 'neath the starry skies.
Snowflakes dance like whispers, swirling in the night, A ballet of delicate crystals, shimmering in the light. The trees, adorned in lace, wear coats of purest white, As winter weaves its magic in the stillness of the night.
Silent is the landscape, wrapped in a tranquil peace, A hush that speaks of secrets, where all sorrows cease. Footprints etched in snow, a fleeting mark in time, A story written briefly, then lost in the sublime.
The crisp air bites with whispers of a winter's song, Yet, in the cold, a warmth, a spirit pure and strong. Fireside tales and cocoa's embrace, hearts aglow, In winter's tender touch, a gentle, quiet waltz we know.
The world outside may slumber, in an icy repose, But within, a flame is kindled, as friendship gently grows. Through the chill and frost, a season's tale is spun, A tapestry of moments shared 'neath the winter sun.
So, let the snowflakes twirl, in their graceful flight, Embracing the enchantment of the winter night. For in this frozen tableau, a beauty rare and true, A winter poem unfolds, painting dreams anew.
Madison Guy ‘26
They fear they will melt away, wasted
A small girl reaches out with mittened hand
Plucks a single prism from the earth
She gazes into the speck
She sees a palace of rainbow glass traveling through the labyrinthine passages, exploring every crevice, dancing through the halls
For a moment she is a queen
A sigh of longing and delight
The warmth of her attention overcomes the white speck
The snowflake gone
The girl moves on
But the white speck was not wasted
For an instant, to this one girl, the tiny snowflake was the world
ASt.Paul’sStudent’sOdetoChristmasBreak Grace Swain, ‘24
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Three students spread panic and quickly announce There’s four tests tomorrow and no time to spare! They flip through their notebooks and rip out their hair.
The stockings are hung by the chimney so cautious While the sleep-deprived students sit at their desk nauseous.
Mrs. Albrecht’s Key Concepts! A Spanish quiz too! But hang in there Saints - ‘cause we’re almost through.
By half past twelve, they’re nestled in bed Eyes stuck wide open and hearts full of dread It’s exam season, but how could it be!? It was just June, and I was once free But keep persevering, do not feel dismay You have to keep going - it’s half of your grade. I’m feeling so hopeless, can’t Christmas come soon I hate you, exams. You make me feel gloom.
Melissa Hunter '33
Untitled Gavin Smith ‘25
Time, what is time? is it the precious seconds of star-crossed lovers gazing into each other's eyes? or is it all those mistakes and opportunities we wish to go back and rectify?
Time, if it's not a tangible object, then how is it spent? Perhaps surrounded by family. Reflecting on a life filled with loving intent.
Time, this unseen force is infinite yet ever fleeting. it may simply be a tool used to gauge our life, and how we fill it with despair or meaning.
in time we will soon all be forgotten, merely haunting memories of the past, slowly fading as centuries fly by fast.
Time can't be controlled, it cannot be given, but it can surely be taken away in a second, so instant.
I say to you my friends don't worry about the small things in our lives, tomorrow is not a guarantee, nor is our future defined, at the end of it all, it’s how we choose to put meaning to our lives. We stand still, time forever marches on without us.
Margaret Dismukes ‘34
Amelia Gewin ‘34
Addie Weinacker ‘32
Untitled Izzie Green ‘27
Pull you up a chair
Dine on our love, cannibals
Devour your heart
Crimson red poppies
Bloom inside your arteries Oxygenated
Moths in my stomach
Spill my guts for you, darling
Help stuff them back in
The Wisdom of Winter
Belle Autio, ‘24
As autumn’s vibrant hues begin to fade, Nature’s tapestry is slowly laid.
The world transitions into winter’s chill, A metaphor for life, an age-old will.
Leaves fall like memories, once bright and bold, Now resting on the ground, their stories told.
The branches now bare, like time’s unyielding hand, Stripped of their youth they too understand.
The days grow short, shadows long and deep,
A reflection of how life's journey swiftly sweeps.
The Sun’s effect, less warm, less bright, Like fading dreams that once burned through the night
The transition, not an end, but a new phase, A chance for deeper meaning of life’s true grace. Embracing change, as we all must do,
With the wisdom of winter, ever true.
As autumn’s colors fade to winter’s cold,
We too, grow old, our stories told.
But in the transition, there is beauty to find,
A deeper understanding of the human mind.
Back to School
Emma Mcvea ‘28
Blue skies cool morning anxious feelings no ceiling to my future
Eighth grade a new day
seeing all my friends after summer so much to say
Familiar hallways the ringing of the bell
Seeing all my teachers I'm excited to hear all they have to tell
So much to learn so much will change I can’t believe there's one year left till ninth grade
Donna Hua ‘26
The school cafeteria is a big, busy pub where students eat and hang out. It's roaring with laughing, talking, and the sounds of trays clinging. A site where time ticks by swiftly. Students make friends and satisfy their hunger after a long stressful day of lectures. In the midst of all the noise, connections are made, secrets are shared, and good times are had. Positive emotions pollute the mind and environment, unrecognizing all the aimless facts bundled up in our minds; Pulsating like a heartbeat back and forth in meaningless statements. As the time is running up, less laughter is enjoyed, and any positive emotions cripple away as the school bell quickly approaches. Those meaningless statements slowly start to become legible, aching away at our minds for the rest of the school day. Time becoming more of an adversary than a friend.
Madison Guy ‘26
Untitled Malek Shahrouj '25
A Priceless Meal
Isabella Morgan ‘29
I want to go back to when I was a kid. I got out of daycare, happy about a new drawing that I had drawn with my hands. People might not think it looked the best but in my eyes, I thought it was the best thing I ever made. I put it on the fridge with one of those round and shiny magnets and looked at my masterpiece. Then I would show my grandmother how happy I was about it. She would give me that kind type of smile that you can’t get out of your head, the smile that makes your heart warm and fuzzy. After the day goes away, the sun starts to seep through the blinds and onto your skin. You think you’re in a painting. You can’t take your eyes off the sunset’s bright and beautiful colors. It doesn’t even seem real to you, the radiance of the yellow mixed with the blood orange and a splash of scarlet red. You’re in a daze and you just can’t look away. When you do look away the Sun has already disappeared into the horizon. You start to walk back toward the kitchen until you feel the grasp of the smoke pulling you in like a fish on a hook, that delicious smell! That smell makes your mouth water not even looking at it.
Then when you walk into the kitchen you will see your grandmother cooking in her white apron with an embordered red trim with a design of a rose coming out of the pocket. She is wearing her walking shoes that look a little beat up but not ready to buy another pair yet. She has that kindhearted smile again that just lights up your face when you look at her. You gaze into the pot with the noodles already soft with some cheddar cheese on the top. You can’t wait to sit down at the table in the chair that is made with a type of straw material. She hands you a plastic cup with ice cold water. After that she hands you your favorite pink plastic bowl still steaming but not hot enough to burn your mouth, just hot enough to have the satisfaction of that priceless meal.
WithoutWinter
Charlie Mainwaring ‘26
Tiny footprints over quagmires painted orange, The whiff of crisp autumn spices withers away.
Winter takes up her throne.
She smirks down upon brown rabbits, As they turn pale with fear.
“She does this every year!” Cries Autumn as she shoots off, to continue the relentless race.
Circles and circles the seasons chase, But, no winner will be chosen.
Winter watches over the quagmires with a frown. She watches the trees lose their orange leaves. She watches the animals lose their vibrant coats of arms.
She watches this land she has claimed, And she sobs, “What have I done!”
She whirls her mighty power, Like a whip, but her depressed storm only darkens. She cries out and falls to her knees. Her shoulders shake with tears, As she hides her sullen face with her hand.
A sudden warmth caresses the small of her back. She looks up slowly and notices the grin of the sun in the sky.
She smiles up slowly,
As the sound of children’s laughter fills the silenced land.
Spring extends a beautifully ornated flower, Covered in her own little icicles.
She gasps and aids Spring in putting the flower in the ground.
First Bloom has arrived.
The crops are revived because of Winter’s stifling storms. The people shake the earth as they rejoice, And dance to carols of winter and holidays. Spring shivers and takes Winter’s face in her hands to whisper, “Thank you for doing this every year.”
Untitled GG Webb ‘27
Long shadows usher in the Sun's early departure
Grey clouds linger over the horizon
Leaves fall from the trees
The grass withers and colors fade
Cold winds cut through the night like a blade
Homes are aglow with firelight
Christmas lights revive dormant yards
Youthful eyes twinkle with hope
Warmth triumphs over the bitter cold
This is winter
Sydney McFarland ‘36
Alex McElroy ‘27
Questioning
What is love?
How do you know when you feel it?
Are you supposed to love everything?
Or would that be too much of a loose meaning?
Does it have something to do with being human?
Is it romantic?
Platonic?
Familial?
Is one of these more important than the others?
Does love only apply to a few?
Can you love an object?
Can someone not feel love?
Is it bad not to?
Is this all some game or construct?
Is there a right way to feel it?
I don’t understand
When does a person feel it?
If you do not feel "love" are you inhuman?
Is this a feeling or label? Vivian McCall ‘25
Ann Leatherbury ‘28
Ella Chandler ‘25
Harshitha Hari ‘30
Untitled Malek Shahrouj ‘25
Blankets scattered across the red leather couches
With a bright-it fire and a comedy presented on the television above
My mother and sisters sit cheerfully close-by
Maya’s laughter infectiously spreads around the living room
The worries and troubles of tomorrow sit jealously afar
Ivey Marston ‘26
Untitled Hilary Mcleod ‘32
Season of raining showers. Prowling predators hunt. Resurrection of Jesus.
I feel the grass sway on my legs.
Nice scents float through the air. Growing flowers strive to live.
Untitled
Katie Rosa '24
First, it was the bugs. Centipedes and pill bugs swarming into wooden crevices, spiders spinning webs between the ceiling beams. You surround your bottle stash with ant killer to keep them from crawling in. They're not supposed to be intelligent, but still you think they've learned to recognize the sound of your sink turning on. They start to swarm when you wash the grime off your hands with trickles of water.
Next, it was the rabbits. Skinny things missing patches of hair with eyes so bright they look feverish. The rabbits are dirty, and they line your rundown garden fence when you water your few potatoes. You're smart enough to leave right after you're done, so you never stay to find out what they're doing. Eventually your potatoes wither entirely and you have no reason to waste water, but the rabbits still linger for a week afterwards. They cast dark shadows in the windows, lurking outside of the safety of the curtains.
Then came the fox, colored a mangy brown and carrying a desiccated fish in its mouth. You only spot it when you peer out your window for the first time in days, when the sun is finally covered by thick clouds. You think it was following the dried river track, but once it sees your sun-bleached cabin it lies down in the dried mud and stares down the hollow bed like it's waiting for a tsunami to swallow it whole.
The final death knell, you think, is the deer. You can just barely see it on the tree line, so emaciated it's begun to eat from the trees. Not that you can blame it, though. Nearly all of the forest's vegetation has turned into dried leaves you can crunch under your shoe, if you could bear going outside. It picks at the few evergreen leaves it can touch, staring mournfully at the rest just barely out of its reach, and you can sympathize.
After all, you're down to your last water bottle.
Something I Love
Braxton Williams ‘29
This is something I love It is as beautiful as a dove It came from up above This is something I want more of
This is something I desire Something I want to acquire Something I would say is fire This is something as lovely as a choir
This is something some may call lame We say "That's a shame"
We go together like wood and flame This thing is a video game
You and I
Helen Ann Coale ‘29
Snowflakes are all different in many kinds of ways.
Some are big and some are small, and some barely differ at all.
But I hope you and I never change. But we will; we will never be the same.
So, for now, let’s run, let’s play, and let’s be ourselves on this cold winters’ day.
Let's sit by the fire and listen to our favorite music
Enjoy each other's different ways
Only to find out that snowflakes are like you and I And we will never change
On this cold winter's day.
Hannah Anderton ‘27
Winter’s Embrace
Emma Haba ‘29
In winter's embrace, the world transforms, A blanket of white, a symphony of storms. Bare trees glazed with the frosty snow fly, Their branches etched like lace against the grey sky.
The Earth lies still and deep As nature rests in her winter sleep. And in the silence, a gentle chime As snowflakes dance in perfect time.
Oh, winter, your beauty is far and grand A testament to nature's plan.
May we cherish your gifts, both big and small, And find sleep in your winter's call.
Untiled
Amelia Webb '24
It is too hot to be sleeping outside at this time of year. Even in my hammock I am drowning. I don’t remember it being this hot the years before.
It rained almost every day this week, so one might think it would have cooled off a bit, but the moisture has only made it hotter. My mind wanders as I fight for sleep. A jellyfish asks me if I know what love is. I tell her I do not. A memory of a gentle breeze blows across my back, just enough to remind me of the heat, not enough to take it away. The megalodon asks me if I am alright. I can't breathe. I can't move. I tell her I am fine. I tell her not to worry. I drift through the ocean for an eternity. I don’t know if I will find what I am looking for.
There is light here. It has been here for a while. I didn’t notice it until now. It is growing brighter. I try to ignore it. It grows brighter. I run from it. It grows brighter still. I cannot hide from the light. I ask its name. the light does not speak but I know its answer.
I pull back the dark cocoon around me. The light is not hot. It will be soon, but not yet.
The shelves of the cheap bookcase sag under the weight of time
It’s too hot the loud air burns the sweat off my skin
Then it is silent
It’s too cold
The teal paint scrapes off around the edges of the soft composite boards
Mardi Gras Poem
Gavin Smith ‘25
A dank chilly evening, shadows from the streetlight move across the century-old buildings.
Cold dead pavement, wet, uneven.
A draft of pungent cigarette smoke dances down wind.
This is Downtown Mobile.
Night falls on the port city, an air of exuberance floods the worn yet charming downtown area.
Traffic pours in from the highways, lines of cars snake through the land.
Mobilians young and old gather, they crowed the damp sidewalks, pushing and grabbing, they try to get to the best spot for what’s to come.
Police sirens blare, red and blue light flows over the onlookers, radiating off of the buildings and streets.
Metal fences line the tired sidewalks.
Men and women lean, children hang and swing from the fences. Crisp and freezing to the touch, sobering.
A smell of beer wafts over the crowd, bellowing out of people’s breath, a true staple smell of Downtown Mobile.
Flashing lights, colors of green, yellow, and purple bathe the streets from afar.
The rhythmic sounds of the marching bands, the cadences and tunes grow near.
Floats of all shapes and sizes parade down the streets, glowing, shimmering in all their festive Mardi gras glory.
A barrage of ramen noodles, pies, and beads soar through the air towards the masses.
People struggling to catch, fighting over caught goods, feral creatures some are.
The spirit envelopes all who dare partake in this celebration.
This is Downtown Mobile,
This is Madi Gras.
Love Poem
Ella Ferguson & Carleigh Elliott ‘27
Your eyes are like two moons in the twilight sky, Shining dreams that money can’t buy.
Your laughter, a tune that stars hum,
A symphony of joy that leaves me numb.
In the garden of love, you’re the strangest flower, Blooming in the darkest hour.
Your love is a riddle, a delight maze,
A labyrinth of wonder, an enchanting haze.
But here’s to love, amazing and wild,
It’s a mystery within every child’s presence.
Very strange, odd, wild and also free,
Beautiful chaos that is you and me.
Transcendent
Jacob Carney ‘25
Upon the shore, the vast horizon of sand whispers to me a calming tone.
The sea's deep breaths flowing through me with knowledge of the universe.
The horizon bends, an infinite sea and sky. Telling me tales of the past.
The Sun’s golden rays hit the water with a million green and blue stars.
Emma Haba ‘29
Every shell, a curled secret. Filled with wonder.
Nature’s hand gives me composure here, on this beautiful day
I feel closer than I’ve ever been to nature and the universe.
With stories and history around me, I never want to leave this place.
Blooming, Raining, Splashing
The season of life Flowers
Millie McDaniel ‘36
Joshua Lambrecht ‘32
