Black and gruesome feet Hide 'neath admired quills Of white swan feathers. Lowel M. Harrop My Dusty Memories Thinking of home I visualize a dusty road that slowly wends through a sleeping town. Rows of fluff-giving cottonwoods are there laden darkly dusty with the reds and browns. The vision of giant tumbleweeds parade, nudged by the blasts of waft on waft of dust bound gaily toward the other side of town to quadrills and waltzes that are now a "must." Neglected lawns lie parched beneath the sun and fields reflect the struggle to yield grain; The still and muffled cry 'gainst land so harsh, tell of wind's long and restless reigh. The constant fingers of the sandy winds have carved a handiwork in walls of stone And viewing this, I realize at last That here, in dust, I'll never walk alone. Ruby Noyes Tippets Cinquain Up's down. Green sky, blue earth. Nature knows what to do With snoopy hunters, play dead old possum. Laney Thorsted Despair hung like a spider from the ceiling Daintly dropped Climbed to the tips of my fingers and back Skimmed its fuzzy legs across my naked skin Nipped my neck Stung me Numbed me Spun and flew away Marjie Corbridge To Wander like a gypsy where the wind takes me unafraid of night or people stopping to talk to learn of life to laugh and cry with friends and then feeling nernous and restless moving on saying good-byes to say hellos wandering through life like a breeze through a canyon that finally winds its way out Marjie Corbridge