Cape May High School - Yam Epac Yearbook (Cape May, NJ)

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THE INKWELL SEQUENCE Child moon Creeping slowly up the sky, Half hidden in furry clouds Follows wistfully as we skim the ground And the wind runs through her curls. The frogs murmur in waking swamps And the lilacs' dream floats like a mist. Cool moon Soft as dewy petals in the dawn Swims, lazy, up the sky o'er Salty swamps in silver dawn. A breeze fluffs tendrils of her hair And the sweetness of her Hurts me like a turning knife. Lazy moon Golden as proud fall-fever bloom, Treading stately on her velvet, Softens the mystery of wild weird marsh A cool night wind blows into our child s rggynl And she hurries from the garden To cover his plumpness. Shrunken moon Plodding heavily up the sky Tinting withered stalks with grey silver, Peers pity down-a bent quaint marz- l climb alone, remembering- Dead trees snap with the same Sweeping biting wind that tears my heart. -BETTY DUNLAP

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18 THE INKWELL PREMONITION Old Angus walked slowly down to the edge of the wharf. It was still day in the interior of the city among the noise and people, but here at the water's edge night had breathed dusk into the lungs of the sky. It seemed that the old fishing boat lolling at the end of the wharf had been yearning for this rim of dusk. Old Angus crept up the gang-plank. The pad-pad-pad of his old and cal- loused feet echoed between the lapping of the swelling ripples. The wind blew his old the captain's hat from his wind-white head along the wooden deck. The sky, out of breath, pulled and puffed the dusk until night had hidden old Angus completely. The old fishing boat sailed toward the horizon with its one occupant. Night broke into a million white pieces of day at the horizon. The pilot wheel alone could paint the figure lean- ing against its back. The still, blue- white face of old Angus looked too de- termined to be the face of a dead man, but old Angus was dead. -ISABELLE SHAW TWIN DARKNESSES Stiff darkness Stretched taut around the world Like a drum, Sprinkled with millions Of hard bright stars- Not a movement, not a sound. Soft darkness, Flowing gently into cracks Like smoke Around the dead houses, Through the still trees- No pattern, only dimness. -SALLY Dkew

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20 THE INKXVI-Il.I. Sparkling glass Of shy red wine, You are a knighfs Velvet cloak, A king's majesty, A nun's reverent silence- A sip of quality. -SA1,l,v Dru-:w CHAMPAGNE F rolicking silver They race up the side Of the crystal liquid. Each clambers into the air, Then bursts from sheer happiness -EMMY Lou Yosw- PRAYER TO A TRAFFIC LIGHT Light of my fondest elrrams, Stay thy sweet green. Change not to amber, That caution that's seen, Nor to eyeblinding red Atrocious in sheen. Stay-oh stay!-lovely light, .lust thy sweet green! -RUTH SA1'Tr:knu,n