The Last Quarter Moon of the Dying Year
The last quarter moon of the dying year, Pendant behind a naked cottonwood tree On a frosty, dawning morning With the back of her silver head Turned to the waking sun. Quiet like the waters Of Galilee After the Lord had bid them “Peace, be still.” O silent beauty, indescribable!
Dead, do they say? Would God that I shall seem So beautiful in death.
Jonathan Henderson Brooks