The sunlight gilds the starch-stiff grass and the scent of dryer sheets plumes out from beneath the house on the corner. The sprinkler, inconvenient and impressing the grass, rains its nutritious crescendo down on me; I shake like a dog and my hair dries with …
by Moira Miller ’27 I fear that one day I’ll look up and the sky will have fallen. That one day the clouds will have disappeared, and all we’ll have been left with is an endless abyss, so bright and cold we will see ourselves …
