By the window his mother sits and reads a book. Jon mounts the steps one at a time. The pudgy fingers of an eight-yeartold rub the shiny cowboy buckle. His body floods with warmth. His rapid breathing calms, and he reaches for the screen latch. He grasps it convulsively and pulls the screen open. — JAN 1 eavy On snowflakes a silent Deepening GARDINER — Fall afternoon, the dritts. SUE WOLFLEY END The ocean silence A rhythmic rears roll. The Though with seaweed And ocean play waves, is vision of summer surf so near others On foamy shore I lie in yellow warmth —Fanciful, on face. in water-lapping citement, waves sand or sleep to lull of sun song, I am alone with thoughts That ride and fall like crashing seabound Just yesterday, I rode That crested giant I lie broken on the pray I thrive sand. wave enslaved peaks; and today, by waves’ — I glide again on sheaves. dreams Tomorrow, I'll never break upon, surf with turquoise Will catch an endless And the away sands commands. CLAUDIA last of Christmas last vEty the Claus... year, but Christmas the of the anticipation: The air felt dusky with love. It seemed perpetually dark, but Linda knew that the dark of the living room protected rather than threatened. During the week before Christmas, the air held an ex- here my the Not Claus. J remember lace. INNOCENCE Santa of Christmas long-ago Santa Christmas. remember d = SONNET OF TURNER a promise, a security. The girl, eight years old and dressed in black velvet, gazed at the nativity scene which rested in the folds of the sheet, snow-white beneath the Christmas tree. She gazed and wondered and touched the tiny baby Jesus. Each of the angels and wise men and animals appeared blue in the glow from the “star” above them. Each of them played a part for Linda in her Christmas doll house. She moved the figures about and placed her favorite donkey in a warmer spot, surrounded by hay and the imagined breath of the other beasts. Then, contemplating, she sucked on the peppermint candy cane in her hand. The voices of her family drifted from the kitchen. Young brother and sister voices talked of Santa Claus. Nancy chattered, “A kitty, a kitty! Santa bring me a kitty.” Craig condescendingly replied, “I want a train. That’s stupid to ask for a kitty.” Nancy cried; Linda smiled: She had asked for a kitten once herself. She hadn’t known any better then. This year, she would ask for a doll, a doll like the Christ-child in the manager before her. She wanted a doll that she could hold and love all year, even after mother had stored the manager away. 38 39 Santa had left and her