Leo Perry

Houses on the Hill

The house on the hill where the children grow;

frost on the mountain,

water frozen like a stone.

Wind sounds like a howl,

ice-like crystals.

Oh how this time of year is so blissful.

The sun is but covered;

the clouds are a haze,

to melt away with spring

is the fate of cold winter days.

Above: Photo Monica Martinez, Faculty

Summer’s Sun

The summer’s sun

could make a grown man groan

beating down like Satan’s wrath

for in the summer’s heat I loathe;

my God, my God,

this heat, I can’t sustain;

my God, my God, deliver me from this domain.

for in the summers heat I loathe;

if I were a flea I would flee,

if I were a dog I may die,

if I were a fish I may fry,

for in the summers heat I loathe.

for in the summers sun I now mistrust.

for our love is now gone – faded to dust.

Above: "White Flower" Vichi Doshi, 12th Grade

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