Page 7 - Contrast1991Spring

Explorer In loving memory of Jeanne Alpaugh (English, Class of 1990)

Be back in time for dinner,
Mother called;
But dinner is hours away-
An eternity!-
While the sun shines
In a sky of swimming-pool blue
And beats warmly down on grass
Whose seed, toasting in the heat,
Smells like bread
Baking.

Slingshot in pocket-
Coathangers and rubber bands-
Toughskins and sneakers.
Running, running-forts
In the woods,
Trees above, leaves beneath,
Rich, loamy smells beckon
Calling, Follow me!
As insects whir lazily in the heat,
Small animals scurry through the brush,
Birds flit and soar, Chirruping.

Trails
Wandering through vines, some thorny,
Lead at last to the stream-
Did it have a name?
No matter, it was The Stream.
Muddy banks, tangled roots, sandbars;
Minnows, schooling, flee from my shadow.
Waterbugs dive and rise,
Striders skim the surface,
Sneakers squelsh in watery mud
As I bend to peer down a crayfish hole.

Standing there, time is forgotten.
Faintly, through the woods,
My mother's voice, calling,
The explorer turns and trudges,
Through now-slanting light,
Towards home.

-Thomas Harbold

2