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Page 95 text:
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T he Deer As I walked down this road one dusk, listening to a December wind, who, whispering in gray tones, tried in vain to discourage me from my pilgrimage, I saw the deer tracks, and the self I had come here to escape left of its own accord, and left me smiling inside. I thought of the doe, knowing it had not been long ago that she strode so boldly up to your gate. I imagined that she pondered for a time on going on, wondering what was to be found just beyond the bend in the trees. I could have told her. But the tracks chose a new direction, skirted the field and disappeared into the trees. Still , I knew that she had shared my homecoming, and knowing brought me the contentment that I find when the wolf comes back to me instead of running away, OI when the fire reveals one more secret that I hadn't found before , or in seeing you smile. The shots, one, then another, and the not-so-distant shout of triumph did not surprise me . I could not have known for certain but I did know. Because you told me. You knew so long ago. There was another reason. I told the house , and the river, and the meadow-sttip of it as I was leaving. They already knew , like you, but I told them anyway, just because. You see , Country, I know because this play is in its second season . This scene has been played before here on this same stage. I know all the lines, and most important, I know the leading lady well. The deer and I are one. Linda Worsley Second Place Poetry Category 89
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Page 96 text:
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90 F irst Scar For days the heavy rain had continued, swelling the creeks to a dangerous level. As I awoke that particular morning in August, I sensed an uneasiness that was unexplainable . It was a free day for me - no school, no plans, nothing pressing. I anticipated a possible flood watch and decided to put in a few hours as dispatcher at the first aid crew station. I knew I could listen for the latest developments there; besides, the boys at the crew hall were always good for a rap session or a game of pool, if the calls were slow. I removed my white work suit from the closet and attached my name plate and first aid pin to the proper places in readiness to stand by. On arrival at the station, I found that several of the other guys were also planning to stick close in case the water decided to get mean. It seems strange now to remember how we talked about trivial things and made light conversation, all the time sensing danger. It wasn't until about five o'clock that the news report warned of flash floods on numerous secondary roads in Augusta County in addition to apparent flooding in the nearby cities. The horn sounded about five minutes after five with a call to Route 254 north of Waynesboro, five miles out. The details were scanty, but as far as we could understand, there was a flash flood where 254- crossed Meadow Run Creek and someone was in danger. As we readied the boat and wet suits, we followed our instinct to do what was necessary. There was no time for fear and questioning. With red flashes of light and the Illustration by Mike Phelan constant whining of the siren proclaiming our readiness and confidence to handle the crises, we left the station. My heart was pounding in my throat as we wound our way through the jigsaw traffic, which was heavier than usual because many motorists had to backtrack. The water had covered the road in low places, making passage possible for only one lane of cars. Realizing that the situation might worsen with the continued rain, I- began to fear the next few hours . As we arrived at the scene, spectators were gaping at the swollen creek, where a woman was clinging to a fence post as she desperately clutched a small baby. The creek seemed ten times its usual width as the water swirled around the small figures. While we readied our safety lines and boat, we learned about the mishap from the woman's teenaged son. Through his tears the anxious boy told how his mother insisted on wading across the bridge , since the water was too deep for the car. His pleas to stop her were in vain. She was carrying his nine month old brother when she was washed from the bridge .
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