The Weber Literary Journal October Helen Wilson Indigo skies that sparkle and breathe, Rivaling June's for color and light, Spread their bright mantles o'er crimsoning leaves, Making a picture with beauty bright. Glorious leaves with bright colors gay, Fluttering down to their brown repose, Their happy existences cheerfully lay The cold Mother Earth's wee things to clothe. Winds that dance strongly down from the skies Stir to mad capers the forest trees bare; And winging swift ways the silent bird flies Back to the southland green and fair. But all things must pass as perfect things do, October falls back with the days that are gone; December flies nearer on pale wings of snow, And the brightest of seasons is finished and done. 6 The Weber Literary Journal Love-lit Moments Mrs. Blanche Kendall McKey "Twilight and evening bells, And after that the dark!" An old man sat upon a fallen tree beside a stream, watching the sunset. He had been there a long time thinking, as is the way with the old. His face had shown at times sorrow, recreated from lost days, but then he smiled. Twilight fell. How dim and far away, in the days which then he was reviewing, had seemed his last twilight. Then its nearness was obvious even to himself. Yet out of the years, toil-besotten, sorrow-seared, and sin-besmirched, he had garnered that which fashioned a smile. So lost was he in his reverie that he did not notice a young man walking rapidly up the path. Nor did the latter notice the small, bent, figure until he was almost upon it. Then a flood of tenderness lighted the young eyes; and, "Dad!" the young voice thrilled. The old man lifted his face in wonderment, and arose unsteadily. "David!" he cried, his shaking hands clinging to the splendid strength of the boy bending over him. "Did ye succeed, Dave? Set down and tell me. Did ye succeed?" "Yes, dad." "Oh, what a boy! That's good news good news! Tell me everything." "Well, I saw John McBride and his sister Mildred. The little hoyden has grown into a beauty. And I ran across old Henry Jones, and Dad, I took a run down to our old home. It looks just the same, but the hollyhocks are dead." "But what about your business deal, my son?" "Oh, I put that through all right; but, dad, I saw" "Well, you're a queer chap," quavered the old man. "You take a run to New York, pull off a deal only one young feller in a hundred could do, come back and all you can tell about is the old friends ye saw." 7