I’m lying on my back in my grandfather’s orchard, staring up at the branches above me. It is one of the last days of summer. Already the days are shorter and the nights are cooler. Some kinds of apples are already ripe. Others will be ready to pick soon. I think of my grandmother’s apple pie, and how I used to make it with her. She died last year, before the apple harvest, and I have not had her pie…
Search Results for: winter
Choir of Autumn’s End
Listen! Is that the calling of the hounds, The hounds returning? What wavering desolate horn is this that sounds, So much like the wild hunt’s baying? A trembling weary choir of voices From the chilly gray air. And they come, then, From behind the old, mound-like gray hill, A long-necked mourning choir on wings, Late geese. We are the last Honks their song And should have listened to the wind’s warnings. Now autumn is ended And winter’s wingbeats ruffle our…
Autumn
We see autumn As a blaze Of red leaves, falling leaf-shaped embers From the branch-lined sky, A blaze Of squirrels rushing, Geese hurrying, of motion, A blaze Of jack-o-lanterns. But around the jack-o-lanterns falls the night, Advancing slowly through the days, A black cat stalking the now-mouse-weak sun. Northern winds come Hand in hand with warm zephyrs Above the autumn’s thin skin of fire, Waltzing around each other; Summer to winter and back While below, Frost turns soil to stone,…
You Just Have to Trust Me
The first time I ever met Erica Stevens was in Miss Moore’s first-grade class at Thomas Grant Elementary. Erica had had a big first-grade crush on Tyler Applebaum, who sat across from Erica at their table. Of course, Erica, being the excessive talker that she was and still is today, chatted non-stop to poor Tyler every chance she got, whether it was during Miss Moore’s addition lesson or during D.E.A.R. time, which was supposed to be silent. Finally after a…
The Wolf
I sit on the porch The dark woods around me Insects chirping And listen To the distant sounds of the party Inside. It is a party thrown for me, By my parents. A party I didn’t want— Strangers crowding into our little house People I don’t know Pinching my cheeks Muttering lies about “How she’s grown!” I escape to the woods Fleeing the lights And the cheerful, pointless chatter And crouch in a dark clearing Reveling in the silence And…
Early Spring
The ice and snow are almost melted, Winter’s biting cold has mellowed, Mountains brown and bare for so long, Show an almost imperceptible haze of green. The sky is the delicate shade of thrushes’ eggs Soon to be laid in a nest of mud and twigs. A mole furrows the earth’s brow with his tunneling, Cautious tongues of green make their way Through last autumn’s leaves into the balmy air. The first robin pecks at the newly softened ground, And…
A Faraway Place
Click here to link to a reading of the story by its author, Emmy J. X. Wong. Nan stared directly into the gray fog, letting the present day obliterate into the cold ethereal wetness. Standing defiantly on the pitching deck of the fast ferry, the Flying Cloud, which had left Hyannis only one hour earlier, she stared blankly at the emerging and unwelcoming, rocky shoreline in front of her and the cream-colored moorings that dotted the horizon fast approaching. How…
Thirteen Ways to Look at Autumn
The smell of gingersnaps, apple cider, and pumpkin pie wafting through the air in delicate swirls arm-in-arm with the colorful wind. The shy sun poking through the wooden arms of a lamenting willow. Golden drops of warm sunshine strewn across the yards of piled leaves and blades of thin grass. Quietly, almost silently, the bitter wind and its long fingers pull and wrench at the crackling leaves. The sighs of schoolchildren accompanying the morning fog on the dawn of the…
The Dragon Speaks
“Hey new girl,” a boy’s voice boomed large out of nowhere. “Are you Asian? Are you from China?” Emily’s face felt scorched. She knew it was turning the deepest shade of sunburn right now because she was dying of embarrassment. She slid further down in her seat, halfway under her desk. In her first week at her new school, this was the last thing Emily Chang wanted—to call attention to herself in this way. But she couldn’t help it. It…
The Gift
Jennifer was heartbroken to learn that Grandma Bea had landed in the hospital for a hip replacement. True, the heavy-set woman with the perennial cheery disposition, with cherries in her cheeks and a twinkle in her hazel eyes, had been slowing down as of late. The diminutive eight-year-old child, with hair the color of straw, who wore it in braids that reached to her waist, had noticed that their daily strolls along the winding paths in Boston Garden were taking…
