MMXX Anno Domini by Michael J. Whelan

There is a lament on the whispering wind
in the year I turn 50,
time wakens like the druid,
while pretenders to the thrones
of many Caesars
try to seize the world, to sunder it.

And I see that quiet wind
again this morning.
It sweeps along the tall standing hedges
pushing big beautiful leaves
as if great ridges of water
full of the disappeared,
engulfing the shores of an island,
rushing, eroding into nothingness
as they reach my body
and I pray,

‘somebody, O somebody please
catch my breath.’

Michael J. Whelan

1 Comment

  1. Thank you to all at Pendemic for publishing this, Michael

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *