July/August 2020

Books are alluring, their words flow across the printed page, coming alive with rage, with melody, wisdom, sadness. Pushkin, Frost, Steinbeck . . . Books are pages, chapters from the story of love and loss. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts

I walk down the grey path And I see the snowflakes coming down, Light as the sun, dark as the moon. I see a man shoot a deer, I see a girl streaked in tears, And I wonder why the snow Is so peaceful and clear. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts

Today I went to the beach and swam in the stormy Pacific. I touched dead jellyfish on the sand, then took a bus to the hotel. Out the window I saw rusty cars, tired people in corner stores, buildings with graffiti, and peeling paint. It was a living city. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13Brookline, Massachusetts