I whisper my innermost desires
to ochre leaves flittering, to the gloomy character
of fall’s advent blowing with
cold-steel indifference,
each steaming breath
is unhurried and

Seasons are prefigured with
ancient mystery and beautiful wisdom released
in the yawn of orchid blooms and
stark gunmetal branches
that stand testament.

Winter’s wraith dances on high, biding time,
stirring clouds with its gray finger.


© Michael Joseph Donnelly, All rights reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: