1973 School Magazine

Mary Williams, SB.

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SLAB HUT Nature smiles knowingly As pass dawns, days, dusks. Strangers black come, Strangers white come - Others go. And inwardly frowning CJtnically she smiles. Silence, Dead-pan-nothing. Yet no! Nature Through brushing bark And song birds sweet Wispers; Through sun-glissed leaves Sees; Through silent trunks Hears. Forgotten, Peeling, Roof-holed Door-lost,

DESERTED HOUSES The wind groaned. The roof creaked. Rusted sheets of iron hung lifelessly. The stillness and the loneliness, the utter desertion and the air of emptiness gave an atmosphere of bleak isolation. Even the scrub sur- rounding the house in the clearing was devoid of life. Perhaps the branches quivered a little in the breeze, but they were really as dead as the termite-eaten fence posts that stood, stark and grey in a small circle about the crumbling ruin. Most of the wooden slats that had once made up a verandah were missing and the door had long been gone. Maybe the inside of the house would be better to look at. But who would want to enter a room now inches thick in dust, with the chimney fallen in, dim and dull and silent, where once had been a warm fue, the sound of happy laughter, the shine of fine silver, a comfortable sofa, a bright rug and the soft light of oil lamps. Likewise, who would wish to see a room with earthern floor, rusted hooks and cracked tubs, where once had been a roaring fire and shining pans, scrubbed floor and fresh curtains. Yes, perhaps such houses are better left alone, to continue their silent vigil in peace. "Dounia Aminah" Form II

Branch beaten, Sheep-sheltered, Lost - The old slab hut. And k-nowingly Nature smiles.

Heather Torney 68

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