Coordinates: Radcliffe Yard

Early Wednesday afternoon, I trudged wearily from Sever Hall to Radcliffe Yard. I did not make this journey voluntarily—if it were up to me, I’d spend my afternoon napping. But FM sent me out to investigate this mysterious site, and I took up the gauntlet.

What can I say? As soon as I arrived at the specified location to which I had been dispatched, my resistance melted. Suddenly, the strangest, most unfamiliar feeling washed over me.

I had the immediate urge to write a poem.

Again, let me emphasize how utterly unlike me this impulse is. I mean, I’m the person who wouldn’t be able to explain the difference between anaphora and alliteration if I were held at gunpoint.

But I’m taking a class on poetry, the sun was shining, the grass was green, and... What can I say? Radcliffe Yard just brought out all the feels in me.

So, without further ado, I present “Stopping by Radcliffe Yard on a Random Afternoon” (a loose and shameless adaptation of Robert Frost’s famous poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”):

Stopping by Radcliffe Yard on a Random Afternoon

By Miranda L. Ryshawy

Whose lawn this is I think I know.

The buildings feel unfamiliar though;

A helpful plaque reads: Founded 1879

And the sunlight sets the autumn trees aglow.

I felt awkward in a short span of time,

When I was ogled by a tour group in a line.

They departed from Agassiz House after a break,

And I then found a sight that was simply divine:

An abstract sculpture arcing like a snake.

At its striking geometry I do a double take.

I continue along the path’s gentle reach,

And discover an oasis so serene my heart aches.

The yard is lovely, but I take a seat

Because all this walking has me beat.

And my recon mission is complete,

And my recon mission is complete.