The ball rolls
And bounces, too
Carried by the wind
As it descends to the ground
It sits idle as gravity has placed it
Diversion is the way of the ball
It dares to deflect worry and distress

by Alexandra Foerster, ’09
The ball rolls
And bounces, too
Carried by the wind
As it descends to the ground
It sits idle as gravity has placed it
Diversion is the way of the ball
It dares to deflect worry and distress

by Alexandra Foerster, ’09
“Poor wanderer,” said the leaden sky,“How you go on, by and by.For you do not know which way to go.My, how you travel on so.”For I replied to the leaden sky,“You are correct, I cannot lie.I do not know which way to goIf I go the wrong way, please tell me so.”“My child, lie down…
Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.While on the road, you’ll find if there’s anything to lose.One man’s trash is another man’s treasure;One man’s sin is another man’s pleasure.Which is which? Well you decide.Why should one by models forever abide?Have no fear, let your voice be heard.Your words will not be…
I’m having a love affair with my pillow.No matter how many times it doubles in size—soaked with the weight of my problems—or I smear all my makeup from another long day,or I scrunch and I squish it this way and that,it loves me back.Every night, it cradles my face,and for hours while I dream—helpless and…
There once was a man on the moonWho made all the ladies swoonHe sat drinking his wineWhich was so fineAnd declared he would return home soon!Every child at one time or another declares that the moon ismade of cheese; this is the story of the man who proved that it reallywas.As a young boy growing…
Everything in my life needs to be a certain specific way.Everywhere I go, whether I’m at work or at home, anything andeverything needs to be molded and crafted to meet my set of veryspecific standards and practices. For instance, at home I have a vastcollection of books and CD’s and I can’t just put them…
Brigid MacArthur-Thompson, ‘17 Plastic beads swinglike rosaries through the leavesAnd the sidewalks have scarsFrom the rising water.The roots grow big enoughThat as you walk,You could be upended at any second.And the ocean waits, ready to rush inAnd fade us into oblivion.The trees must be as oldAs my soul,Because the closest I’ve come to findingGodIs on…