by Maureen Donatelli
Don’t expect flowers;
the bulbs are planted
but don’t think about their colours.
Don’t expect the sky,
either; clouds run through
but don’t think about the smell of rain.
Your chest is open. Don’t expect
the crack of black birds on the wing.
Don’t fall into their laughter.
wait without waiting
wait without
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Maureen Donatelli lives in Abbotsford, British Columbia where she received her BA in English from The University of the Fraser Valley (Honours) in 2001. Besides all things poetic, Maureen enjoys photography and spending time with her children. Her poetry has appeared at vox poetica and is forthcoming in Stray Branch. |
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