I shift like nature, calling snows
To coat me, cover me in a crisp
Canvas of change to bathe in,
To be reborn in, before I skate away
From winds that wither my world.
Bone chilled, I can wander off
To warmer shores, eager for sun
To sooth me, to sink within me
In the form of friend, in the hope
Of something more significant,
Safely steering past the storms
Sent solely to scare, to remind me
Of nature and it’s naughtiness,
Prickling and pruning me, nipping
Away at my every blossom, often
Plucking me at every possibility.
I can be a season of hurricanes,
All harshened and hardened
By human history. I too can tear
Through territories and leave
My markings. I can command a sea
Of storms, all of my own making,
And rise a wave to part the oceans,
To aid me in my crossing to a new
Wide world of my own creation.
Damien B. Donnelly 