And slow falls the heaven’s breath,
drawing on those days of dawns;
dewy with that blanket white crispness
below the song of the bluebird
(do you see; beauty can be blue
even when the bird isn’t black)
soft thrills trembling through the forest
as fine folds of frosty fur
find its form in frozen
between branches blithely bending,
l picture violins, their strings
being strung in a honed harmony
to hush the moon
now bitter to be beckoned
back beyond the blue,
(always the blue, always the time falling
on showers of snowflakes
that find their form
in their fluttering flight).
For a moment,
far from the fury,
the morning sighs itself awake,
(I see a baby draw its breath
and consider the corner of a smile
before it crumbles to a cry)
roots stretch and buds break
through the soil
the slow snow is intent on freezing,
for a moment, all is possible
but the snowflakes
that found the light beyond the night
turn to cracked crystals
of inconsistency
as they tip the truth
of who we are in the dark light
of these dull days.
They were golden tears
for but a moment,
spun into perfection,
swirling southward,
before they found us, falling
over an earth too far
from heaven.

All words and collage by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio version available on Soundcloud:




  1. I love your tree flower. I’ve been thinking about winter branches too. The blues of coldness have their own still hues. (K)

    1. Thank you Kerfe. I was just going to use the photograph and then you came into my head and I thought- okay- let’s get a little more creative!!!

    1. Thank you Liz, it’s so enjoyable to take an image and turn it into something else while still having the truth of it in the end. Hope you are both well 🤗🤗

  2. Darkness and light. . .and a moment frozen in time.
    I love the photo. It makes me think of frost on windows like the scene in the movie Dr. Zhivago.

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