It Was A Cold Fall Sunday Morning

there was a man who had a lot of work to do. He was only allowed to work when the sun was in the sky, because night time meant he had to go to sleep. According to the man, work was more important than sleep. So one morning, as the sun was beginning to rise, the man took a lasso and wrangled the sun to keep it from rising for just one hour. That way, the sun would be up for “an extra hour,” even though the sun would be up for the same amount of time, the only difference that this change made was that

Sunday mornings were accompanied by a combination of dread and lethargy that was unmatched almost any other day of the week. Even Monday mornings didn’t make me roll my eyes the way the dread of going to church did. But there you were, every Sunday morning, awake and already making headway on your endless list of to-dos. Come 8:00 a.m. was the blaring alarm, signaling the start to an allegedly peaceful day. Come 8:15 a.m. was the pleading to stay in bed and the promise to go to Church next week.

Roethke and “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden. The author’s style in these poems carefully craft poetic language that demonstrates the complex nature of a father-son relationship. To begin with, My Papa’s Waltz” Roethke’s diction in powerfully communicates the bond between a father and son by choosing words with conflicting connotations. The poem opens with the lines: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until

Robert Hayden wrote about his strained relationship with his father in his childhood years. Yet, as much as Robert Hayden seemed not to appreciate his father when he was young, his father worked hard to ensure the comfort of his son, and to ready him for the adult life. This is understandable since parent child relationships often go through phases. Robert Hayden used strong language to create a tone that shifts from gratefulness to regret, painting a picture of his relationship with his father over

the fifteen years that she had been married to him. Delia eventually tells Sykes “Dat’s de reason Ah got mah letter from de church an’ moved mah membership to tuh Woodbridge – so Ah don’t haftuh take no sacrament wid yuh” (Hurston 569). Before she falls asleep that night, she reflects on the events of the evening, and finds some peace through her faith that Sykes would eventually get what is coming to him when she says aloud “Oh well, whatever goes over the Devil’s back, is got to come under his belly”

I’ve been singing and acting since I was in Second grade, being on stage was like home to me. I got my first solo in First grade, singing three measures at the fall concert. I got my first leading role in the Summer production of “The Lion King” when I was 8 years old. I didn’t get cast for the first time Spring of Junior year. When I heard that the Spring play was “Fools” by Neil Simon I instantly looked up a character synopsis, searching the page for a role that sounded like me, and already thinking

people who are also staying in the cabin for the week. I got all my hellos done and start playing games and cards. Sitting around the wood fire, along with listening to the wildlife and river that flows behind the cabin. The night falls and the wind starts to die as we all fall into a deep sleep. 4:30 am waking up and still delusional not quiet believing that it’s finally here. Saturday is beginning of the hunting season and the opener, nothing is better than sitting all day in 20 degree Fahrenheit snowy

It was a dark sunday, jonathan was unpacking his items in his new house.”uhh, this weighs a ton.”, he said to himself. When he finished everything he sat on his couch and drank a glass of coke. As the day got darker he went to kfc to get food, he arrived home and took a bite he kept chewing and chewing but he couldn’t swallow it, it was as hard as rubber. The next morning he woke up feeling week as if someone was on him. He thought it was from all the moving. He invited his friend alex later that

description intrigued me. I decided to attend one of the Sunday morning meditation sessions in order to further investigate Shambhala ideology. My GPS protested

On a chilly, windy morning on the Oregon Coast, I wake up at six to attend the daily camp counselor meeting. Without a sound, I tip toe my way to the door without waking the five girls sleeping in the cabin. I stop by the Undertow Cafe before the meeting. The fresh smell of a hot cup of chai wakes me up for the hectic afternoon that awaits. In the meeting, we talk about today's events and the activities for the girls. As I walk into the dining center, four hundred middle school girl campers await