Page 33 - Contrast1966

The wind was waiting for her on the front porch. It was her wind,
full of youth and springtime and fresh, green life.

Miss Winston walked to the door with her, seeming to join in
the general feeling of relief that another piano lesson was over and
done with. "Goodbye, child. Tell your mother that Beethoven is
coming along nicely, and all you need is to spend more time prac-
ticing. Don't get yourself blown away in this awful wind."

Donna turned to say a breezy goodbye, but paused. There stood
Miss Winston, old and withered. She was just another dreary piece
of furniture in the dark old house, dominated, like everything else
in it, by the grand piano. She was so insignificant; so lifeless. For
some unaccountable reason, Donna felt a pang as the thought struck
that Miss Winston couldn't run along the sidewalk with her and
drink in the glory of a March morning. She wondered if Miss Win-
ston had ever known the wind as she did; if she had ever been young
and free.

"Goodbye, Miss Winston," said Donna tenderly. As she walked
outside, the wind gathered her up in an almost smothering embrace.
Then it bounced down the sidewalk, tugging at her bright skirt, in-
viting her to run with the exuberance of youth. But Donna walked
slowly.

recollections

Dark head, darker against my paleness;
Your eyes, dark, with depths that understood my wonderings;
Your strength knowing my willing weakness;
Your soul, shaken like mine by beauty and its brevity.

Sweet ... wet ... the taste of you,
Cigarettes ... shaving lotion ... maleness ... mixed, the smell of you,
Tall, sure, broad shouldered with swinging steps I saw you.
Yes, and words of yours against my ear ...

"But where are the snows of yesteryear?"

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