Lutheran High School - Paw Prints Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

Page 79 text:

Rolling hills green glens Rock hedgerows lichen covered black shorerocks water washed Low hanging clouds over sky reaching mountains traveling sunsplashes spotlighting much divided hillsides Red cheeked children trying to jump over pebble filled streams rugged old men trying to sing in McGees Gaelic Tavern yearling lambs seeking their sheared mother ' s protection rugged old rams defying the autos on mountain roads Patient women knitting sweaters skilled weavers fly shuttling tweeds I remember Ireland Carmen Blair photograph wait for me butterfly don ' t fly into the morning until I can follow, don ' t speed ahead while I go so slowly, don ' t let me lose sight of you your dreams your hopes please wait for me and together we ' 11 watch for the rising sun. Nancy Herrmann

Page 78 text:

DaveThomsen pen and ink Andrea Benich ceramics t V Dreamy glass eyes blink in cool black silence and wait for tomorrow, dreams shroud the mind with light laughter a wistful thought and pleasant smiles those smiles that run placidly through opaque blues and silver hues — the river valley expressions flash like lightning across the open sky of mind and inward smiles bend like serious flexible lines, downward as thunder sounds the surprise of how ' what ' could have been a voided, the rain falls outside of valley walls. Dreamy set eyes still blinking. silence befriended sobs are sound just wait tomorrow comes . . too fast th. tope and Uve, o( -these U love, A gift for all reasons r calligraphy Love- is like a crayon. Once it ' s gone you still have pretty pictures. Rex Briggs

Page 80 text:

Bruce Ritchey photograph happy and free oh happy day i said the ducks fly with joy in the morning and you said cry for the children cry for ecology for the war look down - mourn don ' t you read the paper? don ' t you read the sunset my friend? didn ' t you see the Galillean passing your way didn ' t you touch his robe didn ' t you see the ducks fly? Anne Staley Distant chords of some anonymous guitar beating to the pleasure of my smile I listen undetected and feel a secret longing to be the inspiration of those strings. Nancy Herrmann