Drifting
a ship at sail
weighted to the wind’s whim
captive to the currents that may come
servant to the sway of the storms
fated to the fickle folly
that lies in wait
down
deep down
deep in the depths
below the ebb and flow
beneath the ripples and reflections

beneath the ripples and reflections
beyond the foggy mists
we send our ships
now drifting
cutting
through the current
the coast no longer his concern
the mountains will mourn him in his passing
the leaves will return to the branches
when spring falls and the fog lifts
and we wait in hope
for the return
of our ships

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph: Morning’s breath upon the water in Stockholm