Julie A. Dickson -------- three poems

Moose  [A True account]

Standing still three feet deep,

with river at low tide,

head dipped as he ripped

weeds, and then he chewed.

The town from each bank

viewed an unusual beast

enjoying his feast from the river.

But then they came along,

those from Fish and Game,

we all nodded and agreed

our young moose bore no blame.

He [the moose] was made to go,

tranquilized without much bellow,

taken far up north to graze,

hoisted, as we pondered

it this the best way to raise a moose?

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Hand-in-Hand

The outline of an older man

shadows across a chalky sidewalk.

A young boy stands atop the shadow,

looking up, his small fingers clasped firmly

but softly held in the age-mottled hand

of his white-haired grandfather.

They cross the street hand-in-hand

on their special weekly excursion,

the boy brightening when approaching

their favorite ice cream shop.

Grandfather always orders a Spanish sundae,

enjoying each salty red-skinned peanut;

in contrast to the boy’s pink-hued

strawberry shortcake, mounded whipped cream

and a cherry, saved until the last.

The boy savors each bite in

the shadow of an older man.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

-----

Misalona Smile     [Anagram – Mona Lisa]

Misalona, a solitary jewel -

uncut stone, in precious diamond dark.

Possesses a deep tonal fortitude;

inside her dwells a well-hidden spark.

At times her dark brown eyes have glittered

with vast propensity of visions viewed,

her solemnity seems almost stoic,

although she’s quite resolved in attitude.

Watches from a wide- angle stance,

witnessed images seen as phrases;

words structured into free verse and prose,

compiled silent questions she raises.

When he enters her field of vision

Exquisite jeweled clarity does release;

somehow scene changes to fill her void

Misalona smile exemplifies her inner peace.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH