[Winter Moon | The Office | Photographs | Dancing | Contentment ]

The Winter Moon
The moon rules the sky till the coming of day
Forcing the darkening woods to obey
its silent love call.

Softening the outlines of objects it touches,
Sliding along the ice where it brushes.

Shining the icicles hung on the eaves,
Brazenly outlining all of the trees.

Thousands of diamonds sparkle up from the snow,
Surrounding all with a mysterious glow.

By night reverently praising God,
Stripping the earth of worldly facade.

Mary Jo Beasley-Cowles

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The Office
On the fifth floor looking down
Watching cars still homeward bound
In the darkening gloom
Lighted sky scrapers loom
Like chimney smoke
Vapor from heating systems
Dance
With every changing current
Enhance
Ghostly shapes so high in the sky
Catch then transfix the eye
Further down nearer the ground
Lacy trees that are in sight
Dazzle gold in the lamplight
In the day time teaming
Roaring overflowing
At its best
Now the city in its hiatus
Rests

Mary Jo Beasley-Cowles

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PHOTOGRAPHS
The letters travel Yours to mine,
Who knows what speaks between each line,
We tell each other all the main,
Never sharing what will pain,
The days go by, the months, the years,
our daily cares, our smiles, our tears,
Seldom meeting face to face,
Our lives pass at a frantic pace
with only photographs to mark the time
between your heart and mine.

Mary Jo Beasley-Cowles

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DANCING
The trees are dancing in the breeze
to the music of the wind,
They bow to each other formally
then twist around in awkward glee,
They shimmer, sway and bend
to the orchestration of the wind.
Suddenly jilted to standing still
Seemingly against their will,
Stately but anxious for the next dance,
Hoping the wind will catch their glance.
The wait is getting hard to bear
when the wind appears out of nowhere,
They bow, sway, twist and spin
as the dance begins in earnest again.

Mary Jo Beasley-Cowles

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Contentment
Sunlight streams golden shafts through the open door,
Shadows cast lacy patterns on the hardwood floor,
Gently the wind stirs the curtains over my head
As I repose on my downy bed.
Silence so pure that it seems to glow.
Heaven feels so near for here so far below.
The air around me is soft as an angels kiss.
Only our Lord can give a gift like this.

Mary Jo Beasley-Cowles

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Page Updated Saturday, August 13, 2011