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Show T p SUNDAY HERALD. oe rs SET. 24, 1961 By WINIFRED N. JONES IVI ARCHING through the hills with his red'nd yellow trumpet spilling the gay 'notes of fall, Autumn bring a gift of color and beauty to the world to warm the winter that liesxahead. In Central Utah, f he plays an especially lovely Mt. Nebo V'lEW PROVO, UTAH COUNTY, UTAH melody, of "color as the aspens, daks and maples r?'sron.d and spill their gold and fire down the hillsides. i. The rains, have washed the colors' to 'brilliancy i throughout the mountains . "Come to us, come to us." . . and the trees whisper. I've watched the ; clouds by day and night, Great fleecy ones all filled with light, Gray beasts that steal across the skyv And little fellows slipping by. K'JIWOT.'.VW.V.WW.V.'.W.W. y iH' John Farrar 4 v. 4 V i . ' 'Oi i w t J, y 4 jX x- i PV" i J- - , a. 4 V I V v4 i erf - 4 - at cliffs and clouds With quiet' eyes, will look And when lights begin to show Up from the town. I will mark which must be mine; And then start down. J" i; M ' Watch, the wind bow down the grass, And the grass rise. y x V v ' w t I' I ' dJaxM-Jl'- t. Spring Lake Edna St. Vincent Millay Santaquin Canyon ' . t , There is something in the autumn' that is native to my blood Touch of 'manner, hint of mood; And my heart is (like a rhyme,' With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. Bliss Carman '11 1 AM .pfr 1 w 1 4 I ""it. w 1i if 1 ' f aSK i 12 r"- i t 4r 1: 7 , 1 T' rra1 was going on and on to pencil some other place. xnv a tree that looked at me, "-- 'I " - Bev-on- I And yet it did not have. a face. V i 1 "if' i - I I t If looked "at me with all its limbs; at me with all its bark. ookcd ... T- yellow vrinkles on its sides Weie bent and dark. It. J t And then I ran to get away, But when I stopped and turned to see, The tree was benling to the side And leaning out to look at me. - A silent sentry of Space, It's naked fingers point Everywhere at once In stiff majestic grace. E. M. Roberts (Herald Staff Photos by Harold K. Monson) h Santaquin 'Canyon Nebo Loop Stately, gnarled and dry, Ancient and yielding not To wind nor time. Blind Ancfseeing not the fluid sky. . Fred Forbes |