Author's Note: I wanted to celebrate Arthur and Damaris's engagement by writing a special poem for them. Arthur and Damaris, we may not know each other extremely well, but as fellow APer's, I consider you part of my extended family (and you both are my brother and sister in Christ!). I wish you both love, joy, and blessings, now and forever! This one is for you:

Sometimes the right things just fall into place,
and you find a love that fills up a space,
inside of your heart where you didn’t know,
that any more love could possibly go.

Lightning flashes across the sky,
Thunder rumbles a lullaby;
Soft and deep, very sweet and low,
Wind hums along, breathy and slow.
Tree branches gently dip and sway;
Waltzing the moonlit night away.
Raindrops kissing the cool night air,
Stars twinkling with light-beams fair.
Rustic theatre sets the scene
For a concert and play serene.
Handiwork of a mighty Lord:
A musical you can afford.

There are three gas stations in my town. Why a small town has three gas stations, I really could not say. Two of the gas stations are directly across the street from each other, but the people in my family only go to the gas station on the right side of the street. “Will it be the guy in shorts?” I always ask, and the answer is nearly always “yes.” “The guy in shorts” is what we call him, but I shall abbreviate that title to the name 'Jim.' I have no reason to think that is his name, but it seems close enough.

She smiles like she's fueled by sunbeams,
Like every hope of happiness
Came into fruition.

I beam at her approvingly,
My memories like curly cues
Hanging off her shoulders,
Circling her face.

She embodies bright colors as she struts,
Orange laced confidence in every step
as she takes charge with a wave of her hands,
And I still argue against the pigmentation of Crimson.

“Shower caddy and soap—”

“Check.”

“Desk light, pillowcases, notebooks—”

“Got it.”

“Socks, glasses case, portable radio, my quote mugs—”

“All present.”

“Okay…” Harper Little released a flap on the last cardboard box and watched it settle into place. Looking up, she grinned at her mother.

“What?” Vivian Little rolled a felt-tip pen between her thumb and forefinger. Her blue manicure gleamed against her pale skin.

“A shining personality…an exceptional mind…”

John Calvin and Augustine of Hippo were both great theologians of their day. But though separated by hundreds of years, they often proved to be doctrinal allies during the Reformation. After Calvin’s initial exposure to Augustine during his time at the College de Montaigu, he came to have a great respect for the theologian of Hippo. Calvin would later quote extensively from Augustine in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. However, though often doctrinally in agreement, their views came into sharp conflict when it came to how to interpret the Scriptures.

The scientist stalked the long length of the hall, doors opening to either side. He passed a lab assistant in the hallway. He looked frantic, scared. He was right to, if anything in the report was true.
“Doctor Barns.”
He turned, “Yes?”
“Kieth is in here, sir.” The man disappeared again into the room from whence he had come.
Barns followed him. With any luck, this was just another case of poor security procedures; Some new engineer not taking the right precautions.
“Barns, I’m glad you’re here.” Said Kieth in his deep commanding voice when he arrived.

I never trusted myself with books. Not that I didn't love them. I just reverenced them too much to handle them without guidance. I hungered for the day I could read the books my siblings read, like Homer, Hegel, C. S. Lewis, and Dickens. Yes, Dickens most of all. I had heard great things about David Copperfield, and my mother frequently compared me to Mr. Dick. She would say, “Mr. Dick, we need your advice,” and I offered it. She and my oldest sister would smile and wink at each other and say, “She'll love Dickens.”

I searched in the archive of my essays this past year, since I barely posted them. This is a response to literature assignment, which I am supposed to write my response to the book I chose: All Quiet on the Western Front (Remarque). It's about a WWI German soldier's sad, sad experiences (hopelessness, no meaning in life, lack of relationships - well, you'll have to read the essay) in the trenches. The beginning paragraph and conclusion are meant to copy the style of particular pages of the book.

Pink Feelings
Guilt darkens these pink feelings,
As I keep him in my peripheral,
Wanting him to step up,
Wanting him to take an interest,
Somehow wanting him to steal me away.
Nonsense fills our idle conversation,
Yelling,
I wish only to speak nonsensically with him all night,
Drawn to his laughter,
Drawn to his ability to make me laugh,
I guess just drawn to him.