Poetry by Theresa Donnelly – 12/17

A Brooklin Christmas

Christmas is almost upon us: lights are draped all over town. The tall trees that stand in the Grass Park are dressed in their most festive gowns. The moon hangs low in the night sky: the air is chilly and clear. Jack Frost is painting all of the windows: to signal that Christmas is near. Christmas is almost upon us: sing the Carolers under the gable while carpenter Ed attaches the star that will hang from the roof of the stable. Festive wreaths adorn every lamp-post: made from holly and bunches of pine. Christmas is almost upon us, the Town Clock announces with chime. Children’s faces are aglow with excitement in anticipation of what lies ahead, as they decorate the Christmas tree then hang stockings at the end of their bed. Chestnuts are roasted by the fireside while gingerbread is served spicy and hot: swallowed down by lashings of strong black tea which is served from Granny’s best pot. Visions of Saint Nick and his reindeer fill every youngster’s head. Christmas is almost upon us: best go hurry and jump into bed.

This poem was previously published in the Brooklin Town Crier, 2008

December in the Village

Mummified cedars
shiver beneath
a colossal sunrise.

Morning breaks above
the gingerbread fence.

Smoke levitates atop
chimney stacks:
lingering remnants
of Christmases past.

Out on a limb
nests exposed.

Chairs sleep upon tables
at Meadowcrest:
halls emptied of sneakers
and lunch boxes.

On the far side
of the playground
the big dig:
steel bones in place.

A book’s ambition
to be placed on low shelves
where young minds can reach.

This poem was previously published in the Brooklin Town Crier, Dec. 2009

Winter’s Child

Snow angels blanketed
under sheets of ice
succumb to a lullaby:

as the icewine moon
sails the crisp night
in search of-

winter’s child.

Hair as white
as moonbeams
on the frozen pond.

Tapering fingers
icicles on-
the brittle bough.

Her gown a celestial
shroud of
iridescent stars.

Her breath
on the sash windows.

She leaves a trail
of footprints-
throughout the village.

This poem was previously published in the Brooklin Town Crier, 2010 and Recurrence of Blue, 2015

Twelfth Month

Upside down houses
a sister for the moon
wrong side up cedars
a mirror for the loon.
Until the pond freezes

it cannot be too soon!

Skaters will assemble
blades sharpened twice
to carve Merry Christmas
above thick layers of ice:
while following the scent
of sugarplums and spice.

This poem was previously published in the Brooklin Town Crier 2012


Theresa Donnelly was born in Dublin, Ireland, and has lived all over the world. Her poetry has been published in Surfacing Magazine, The Copperfield Review, Tales from the Forest (an Irish publication) and The Caterpillar Magazine among many other publications. She is the author of two poetry books: Moon Witch and Other Scary Poems and Recurrence of Blue. She is a member of The Ontario Poetry Society and a founding member of The Brooklin Poetry Society. You can find her at theresadonnelly.com.