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Patterns
pick themselves together
on the ground
through the pitter patter
of rushing feet, wet feet,
feet wishing themselves
to be warm
as the rain
rings winter wet,
wetter,
not better
for shoppers
and strollers
and businessmen
with briefcases
briefly blowing smoke
up their own asses
while waiters
wait
to be commanded,
wait for orders
from others
while watching the rain
washing down windows,
wondering
when they can become
a part of other patterns
assembling into something
on the ground
just out of reach
just under foot,
under feet,
pitter patter,
patterns in puddles
patterns that have matter…

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:

PATTERNS

7 thoughts on “PATTERNS

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