Bellwether

Gregory O’Neill

Falling like a tolling of leaves
from silently fluttering bells,
looming creatures that ring
in the wind, in the winged hush
between gusts, their shadows
braided with the scent of rain. 

Change; imitative, creative—
in contemplation of a poetry
already happened—echoic
of what has already flown. 

Drifting as will promises
assemble in near understanding,
the voice of one not yet known,
not yet in absence—those things
we meet as they’re leaving, we
long for differently. 

By the hush of light fading,
memories crystallize as frost,
into fragile prisms—refracting
what was, what might have
been; we ride upon the cusp
of seasons, breath a mist
of possibilities, suspended
between the tangible and the
transitory—a fleeting bridge
spanning now and not-yet.

The inconsolable wind-fallen
apples, their sweetness tinged
with the knowledge of decay’s
patient approach.

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Gregory O’Neill
Gregory O’Neill, from Seattle, writes reflective, conversational poetry about the canny, uncanny, the seemingly sublime, the obscure within the mundane, and the emotional physics of absence. Writing appears or is forthcoming in, Four Tulips, The Laurel Review, The Mantis Literary Journal, Jackdaw Press Review, The San Antonio Review, Route 7 Review, Relief Quarterly, New Feathers Anthology, Litbop, Eunoia Review, Paraselene, Cathexis NW Press, Words Faire, Zoetic Press, Last Leaves, Gabby & Min’s, and others.