Leaf

Marie Van den Broecke

A

leaf gently

twirls with the breeze

plucked from its mother by

whispers from the sky freshly

fallen, finally free as the rays of

sunlight make the world beyond branches

sparkle. Bugs with new shades of blue, laughter

like never before. Ballet with butterflies to the

beat of chirping baby birds. The magic of

innocence’s discovery making time tick slow to a distant morning drizzle

life’s best adventure to rest

with skeletons of

old friends

in the

black

dirt.

What a Wonderful World

Kayla Halls

Anastasia glided up to the Apollo Theatre one steamy New York evening. It was the summer of 1940, and her first time in Harlem.

She flicked ash from her cigarette and stepped inside. She was greeted with the sound of honey and gravel, wind chimes and hurricanes. It rose around her, enveloping her in its sweet sound. The lyrics tugged at her and pulled her deeper into the smoky theatre. The large main room was dimly lit and crammed with tables. A small stage sat at the front where a black man and woman crooned into their microphones.

Anastasia sat down in a cushioned, scarlet chair. Her gold dress glimmered in the low stage lighting, drawing the singing man’s attention to her. He took in her pale skin and red wine lips. All he saw was elegance and demure beauty. He saw a wildflower pushing through the cracks of a Harlem sidewalk.

She was entranced by his rough voice, the way it scraped and flowed like water along the rocky bottom of a river bed. Its powerful movement and steady rhythm filled her body. The music carried her thoughts away, filling her with a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t known in ages. It wasn’t until wild applause ushered the man off the stage that she regained her focus.

The man moved towards her table. Once he reached her, he introduced himself. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Louis. And you are?” She rose from her seat and held out her hand. “Anastasia.” Her voice reminded him of red roses.

“I’ve never seen you here before. I would remember such a stunning face.” He said as he took her hand. She smiled easily.

“Yes, it’s my first time. I’m not from here. I’m just passing through on my way back to Europe.” He gestured for her take a seat and he sat across from her. “How did you like the music? It’s Ella’s brainchild.” He gestured to the woman who had been singing with him. “It was marvelous, like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I wish we had music like this back home. It makes me want to dance, and melt, and float away from the rest of the world. It just… it just feeds your

soul, you know?” A smile spread across Louis’s face as he leaned back in his chair. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s inspired, it’s honest, it’s-

“It’s alive.” Anastasia finished.

For a few moments, they allowed the lyrical rhythm of Ella’s voice to diffuse around them, coating everything in a dusty pink.

Louis cleared his throat. “I discovered something a while back.” Anastasia leaned forward. “What’s that?”

“That sometimes, when everything is silent and still, you can see a person’s soul connecting to a certain song, or person, or place. It’s in the way their body reacts to the space around them.” Louis nodded his head at a young man. His head was tilted back, fingers tapping along to the music. His eyes were closed as he mouthed all the words. “Do you see it?” She looked at Louis curiously. “How did you figure that out?” Louis’s face lit up, filled with childlike joy and innocence. “Years of careful observation. I can’t divulge the exact method, or else I would put the entire operation in jeopardy.” Anastasia’s laugh bubbled up and spilled over. Louis felt like it would carry him away. “This place is like a dream,” she said. “A beautiful dream that I never want to end.” Louis gave her a quizzical smile. “Why on earth should it?” Anastasia twisted her hair. “No reason in particular. I just discovered something a while back. The morning tends to bring about harsh realities that taints the loveliest nights.” After that, Anastasia got caught up in the music again. Louis could have sworn that he saw her soul connect to it.

It was well after midnight by the time he walked Anastasia to her hotel.

“Louis,” she whispered. “I really must go now. I have an early train to catch.” “I know,” He sighed. “You will come and visit, won’t you? I could show you the whole city, the bright lights, and the hole-in-the-walls.”

“Maybe,” she said with a sad smile. Louis gently took hold of her hand. “Don’t say maybe; you might as well be saying no.” Regret clouded her voice as she pulled away. “I enjoyed getting to know you tonight, but it really is time for me to-

“Anastasia!” a voice called from the hotel door. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!” Louis turned towards the voice and saw a tall man with pale green eyes and dark brown hair striding towards Anastasia.

this?” “I’m sorry dear, I must have lost track of time.” She murmured. He let out an agitated sigh. He was about to pull her inside when he caught sight of Louis. “Who’s

Anastasia had a nervous smile on her face as she responded. “This is Louis. He was performing at the Apollo Theatre.” Louis stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you sir. You have a splendid…” “Wife,” her husband interjected, with a frown on his face. Louis dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “Yes, a splendid wife indeed.” The man gave him a look of disgust before yanking Anastasia inside. She lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave and disappeared into the hotel.

Louis turned away from the building, heading towards home. He knew he would never see her again, knew that he never had a chance to begin with. And yet, a smile began to grow on his face. Her beauty was subtle and flowing and fleeting. He couldn’t even begin to contain it or hope that it would stick around long enough to truly become his.

Somehow, just encountering her was enough.

Everything seemed to be blooming and bursting with color, as if the world could hardly contain itself. Words flooded his mind. I see trees of green, red roses too/I see them bloom for me and you…