TIME Passing time moved a destroying vine to grow about my heart and suck the will to live from my being. Red jolly balloon floating through the air my dreams filled therein, a sharp pel let of time passes by and broken red pieces lie before my feet. A steel gray fog fills the space of my mind's eye and drifts into the vacant rooms of my soul where love once lived. George Coulam 6 THE FOX AND GEESE TRAIL The gray morning is cold, and I am alone suppressed in fog. I stand shivering, staring over the railing of the cat walk. The arc light makes rainbow circles through the fog, Catches crystal color prisms in the heavy hoarfrost, And casts a slim shadow across the fox and geese trail Trodden symmetrically on the lawn and bisected in the earth's white shroud. A short path, a jubilee, circling and meeting its white beginning. The sun will soon release the shroud. The path will sink below the ground. I will smell the smells of earth and dust again; I will feel the warmth of white and blue again. The summer of this year has passed and left me cold, But my summer is yet to come, Then how far still a jubilee for me. Mary Brethouwer 7