She came to learn
dreams can come,
at too high a cost;
But she was brave &
took that risk,
though all was lost;
Now she chooses
dreamless nights &
hollow voids;
There she shall remain
till peace comes
crawling once again.
By Mihran Kalaydjian, CHA
Summer in the South
The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid, and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and pinety,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.