mahankI was going through some papers tonight and found four poems my mother wrote when she was in high school and one from when she was in college. (Her wedding photo is to the left.)


The hour when day,
Like a butterfly,
Creeps from the cocoon
Of night.

Painting by Corot

Dreamy trees, rapt,
At their shimmering reflection
Mirrored in the river.

Riding at Night

Black pine trees in silhouette
Pierce the gleaming moon;
The night wind whistles through my hair
With a strange, exultant tune.
I love to ride at night like this
With the landscape whizzing by!
Thank you, God, for wind and trees
And moonlight sky!

The April Breeze

With the cool, sheer fluttering
As of chiffon
It whirls about


You need today
There is work to be done;
There are lessons to be learned;
There are friends to be won;
There is heaven to be earned.
Don’t wish it away—
You need today!

Mary Agnes O’Neill


kml-circa-1953My mother cut her own life short one long-ago Halloween and left three little girls behind. We know very little of her. These poems are precious to me.

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