Brownmoor School - El Alacran Yearbook (Phoenix, AZ)

Page 63 text:

1116-ZRHRy JE :ag-1. 'J-2 Q5 'Cx 1 1

Page 62 text:

' ' ,4wwzw4.,474,,- M -see ,iq fi 's ef-All M . y GIFLFI-ie U' Gamsll 'Jezabex us? One of Those Thing ll Defour llseqe S..

Page 64 text:

.s,,, A gale of golden laughter, A shower of silver tears, A sprinkling of bright colors Wherever she appears. Her eyes, a lovely blue, Her hair the softest brown, Her skin as soft as petals, Her garb, a pale, green gown. Kwtdq 764m '57 7 264015 Fence Purple peaks in the horizon, Sunrise on golden sands, Soft silhouetted Sahuaros, Sunset in desert lands. Desert moon casts its glow, Crickets sing in the brush, Tall iack rabbits scamper, The night has lost its hush. The desert, soft-breathing, peaceful, As the moon sinks in the west, ls a land of silent shadows, Of perfect peace and rest. Streaks of orange and red across a golden sky, The delicate outline of a church spire - Life in a silhouette - smothering the monotony of day, vast and exciting, brief but enduring. ln a church - Night, the madness of moonlight on gossamer leaves, sea mist mingled with the fragrance of blooming jasmine, the soft vagueness of the breeze in my hair, a dew-sprinkled cobweb, - stars with the brilliance of diamonds in a showcase. In a stream - In a tree - Night, a silent fantasy - the peaceful rhythm of a world in sleep. On the earth - gawg04mzw'57 Us pg A mirrored reflection. The shine of leaves. The sustenance of life. Mama '56 Night, vague and intangible - a soft velvet cloak Ina dark Co,-ner- Lightness through the darkness. Radiance of the colored panes. Saegafztm 56 7442: 264025 The song of the desert is a beckoning cry, the voice of the breeze over golden sands, the throaty rasp of a land delirious with thirst, arms outstretched, clutching at the fragments of life, trying desperately to grasp them. They call her barren wasteland and fear her swirling sands, they cry for water and beat her with their fists in rage. How could they know that she has longed for the life that water brings, that all she has, she gives to a desert flower, gone astray? How could they know that she holds the deepest secrets of past civilizations within her heart? ls it destiny that makes her as she is - subiect to the lashing winds and murderous sun? What morbid curse was cast upon her that turned her sour? With the passing of time a man came by with a dream and a hope and a vision of life - of a desert made fertile, with trees and flowers, streams and orange groves, and the laughing people of a new civilization. Now she laughs and scoffs at fate, and her song is the cry of a conqueror. fmu2foZmzaa'56 HMM!! Swiftly moving - She weaves her cloud patterns, This Goddess in flight. She turns the weather vane On the house top, glides from Tree to tree - Bending them like dancers. Often she is quiet and sleeping In calm repose, Only to spring up again, Giving no warning - Except by breathing the dead Leaves to life for a moment. She is Wind - This beautiful Goddess. Ffwf WJW 355