Page 31 - Contrast1958Winterv2n1

into the lake, Ann's lake, as if to an the coves where Ann would

swim no more.
Tomorrow the sun will dry the sand and little boys will play

again. building dream castles and sailing ships. Tomorrow the breeze
will blow, the vacationers will come and search and go again. To-
morrow.

A GREEN SOUND

I heard a forest calling me,
A million pine and a thousand oak,
A hundred spruce and poplar spoke.
But the voices were lost in the crashing din,
Of a metallic, dissonant, city of sin.
A whirling, wicked, exciting home,
My enchanted forest of steel and stone.
Then somehow an uneasiness grew-
Magic oft gets a tarnished hue,
Days grow long within four walls,
And footsteps echo down lonely halls.
Oh God, how long since I've seen a tree?
Since I heard that forest calling me?

MARSHA D. REIFSNYDER

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