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Page 44 text:
“
GOD ' S COUNTRY (continued) the sighing breeze gently caresses pine and maple, carrying their fragrant perfume across the mirror-like waters, and bearing them skyward. Darkness falls. Once again the hushed tranquillity prevails. And men and mice sleep. HONOURABLE MENTION KISSES Doreen Zipp 12-18 JUNIOR NEXT DOOR Lorraine Rau 11-11 LIMERICKS The season for crew cuts is here. All the girls shudder in fear. For the loss of fine locks Presents many rude shocks And the shedding of many a tear. There was a man of Madrid Ran into a house and hid He stole someone ' s wife To be his for life. The husband was glad that he did. There once was a class in Eighteen, Whose members could always be seen. Leaning up near the door. In Malchy ' s drug store. Sipping cokes while they carelessly lean. There once was a dark day in May, Which we were to call our Field Day, But how could we run, And have any fun. With snow lying ' round in the way.
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Page 43 text:
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FIRST TOBOGGAN RIDE (continued) Then, quickl A sickening, scared feeling! The inevitable, warned-about bump! Our stomachs churned and turned over as one. Our hearts skipped a beat. We drew in our breaths, tensed our bodies, simultaneously. ,,r e poised, suspended for a microscopic instant, then sped downward once again. But, was Johnny still with us? Yes, still there, and hanging on now tighter than anyone else....Heaves of relief, then on again, until... Slowing down, now. Forms beginning to take shape....trees, and bushes.Slower still.t en.we stopped! What a mad unscrambling of arms and legs! What twistings and tanglings! Every¬ one rolled over...one....two....out! Surely that so-Saiall-looking toboggan hadn ' t transported all of us? Strangely enough, it had! Then, for a more practical side, we took stock. Only a comb lost...a mitten. What no arms and legs? So,stiff as boards, we began ti.e long tramp back up the hills. We felt as cramped as if we had been sitting for years! In spite of the snowfights and laughter, we began to shiver, feeling the intense cold, now. The boys took turns pulling the toboggan, as we tramped past before-unnoticed trees and bushes. Suddenly, the realization of the beauty of the starry night came upon us. Snow crunched underfoot. Trillions of star s shone, diamond-like, in a broad, black-velvet sky. Trees stood straight and still as sentinels. ns we approached the club-house, lights reflected on the snow, sparkling like precious jewels. e heard a jumble of gaiety and music... smelled the tingling aroma of hot coffee and hot dogs. Cold..tired...hungry, we made a last, final run to the club-house for a rest, hot food, and later, perhaps another toboggan ride. But the same thrill again? Never! Those delightful sensations are experienced only on the first toboggan ride! TnIRD PRIZE GOD ' S COUNTRY by HRYaN JOHNSTON a thin cover of mist envelops the placid waters, while in the east a glowing ball of fire slowly, ever so slowly, illuminates the heavens. Suddenly the white haze vanishes. Piercing the calm, a buzzing outboard bounds across the lake, casting into the air a blanket of spray, its wake unfolding into myriads of miniature crests. Once again, all is quiet. Periodically, the marsh cry of a solitary canvas- back resounds as it lazily flaps across the blue, dipping outstretched wings and skipping the surface. Then silence. as old Sol habitually climbs in the firmament, divers craft appear, and then disappear, threading their course among the secluded islands, an arrogant yacht, its trim prow butting the wind-tossed whitecaps, majestically cruises towards the fish¬ ing grounds. Now an indescribable vessel emerges timidly from the shadow of shelter¬ ing spruce, fearful lest its grown-up brother should view its clumsy lines and awkward motion. Darting like a guided shaft, a canoe noiselessly parts the crystal waters, while a flashing paddle rises, and falls. Mid-day. Voices echo back and forth, while swimmers penetrate cool, alluring depths, an angler patiently awaits the realization of a dream, his line hissing through the air and sinking into the deep with a muffled splash, a spotted fawn furtivel y seeks the lake ' s edge, now bounding into the protective shelter of spruce and hemlock. Unexpectedly, a new face appears. Like a monarch, bushy tail held high in defiance, a small black and white striped fellow struts fearlessly along the spongy lakeland path, n red-headed woodpecker, inquiring after the evening meal, diligently drums out his singular rhythm on a decayed tree trunk. Rat-a-tat-a-tat, uat-a-tat-a-tat . Occasionally he stops, and cocking his noble head to one side, listens intently to the echoing response, as though absorbed in improving the note. And gradually, the day wanes. Slowly, ever so slowly, a glowing ball of fire begins to sink into the west, transforming the heavens into a blaze of yellows and reds. Dropping to a whisper,
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Page 45 text:
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POETRY CONTEST FIRST PRIZE DaDDY ' S SHADOW by ROSE MALAZDREWICZ 11-10 He has a tiny shadow And he is six feet tall, Though shadows sometimes telescope How can his be so small? When he digs in the garden It digs the self same way. And when he presses plants in place His shadow pats the clay. Then suddenly the shadow Has ideas of his own, .and little brother nans indoors Leaving Daddy alone. SECOND PRIZE DAY OF aLL DAYS by LORRAINE RAU 11-11 Outside the window the sun shines bright, It seems more than eight hours since it was last night. Judgment day has come as expected and soon I’ll know if I’ve been accepted. I dress very quickly and hurry downstairs Ignoring my family and dodging the chairs. I sit down at the table, but simply can’t eat. Realizing, of course, this thing has me beat. Finally breakfast is over and I grab for my hat, Through my own carelessness, trip over the cat; Picking myself up, I rush for the door. Oopsli Down again—Now who waxed that floor? Once outside and refreshed by the air I look up the street for my pal, in despair. Presently I see him, trudging along, Hurry up. Slow Poke—forget that song! Today ray destination seems like miles— Yet the people around are all wearing smiles. Exhausted, I drag myself that last long block. And upon a crude door I nervously knock. From inside a squeaky voice shouts, Who goes? What a peculiar question from someone who knows— That I have come to take the test; That I ' m a recruit like a few of the rest. 43
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