BY KANDA FAYE ’15
At night, all is different.
The lake, so warm with ripples and wildlife
Is a sheet of black steel, cold as ice.
The trees on its borders, vivid green, a source of comfort,
Stand as dark sentinels, imposing and impregnable.
No sun to warm the New England air,
The September breeze chills the fingers to the bone.
But if you sit still… the smell of the air will warm your heart
And the sounds of the night will calm your soul.
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