It's just poetry, it won't bite


10.31.11 Posted in words to linger on by


Maureen Donatelli’s most recent poem to appear here was Bee Fever (September 2011).


By Maureen Donatelli

As evening indigo curtains low bronzed hills,

and lights along emptied avenues flicker to cones

of cold white life, it comes near to sparkling, to speaking

in the wispy rustle of yellow-leafed birches lining the drive,

in the thin creek, soft chiming its secrets, hidden in the steep

fern-blanketed ravine, and the huge plate of a moon

rising brilliant in the west, chasing shadows in darkened yards

with long low strides, with a penchant

for passing bare windows, a sudden reflection, an eerie waver

of light and shadow beside your own, a soft tapping, startling

until you catch the form for what it is–just a body

of branches, the lilac bush, jostled by a brief breeze, a bit of relief

in your chuckle, such silliness to think, yet

there remains something unsettled in the winsome

reminders, the delicate frosted touches, fingertips

turning fine like needles, silver quick

glinting, probing persistent at old worn keyholes

those black portals time picks, a thief come quiet, stealing you through.

2 Responses to “October”

  1. As I read this, I thought of the symphony. Music filled the background of your lovely poem. October, my birth month.

  2. Maureen says:

    Thank you, Jeanette! October is one of the most beautiful months. My husband, and two of my children have birthdays in October. Happy Birthday!

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