A candle leans,
wax sinking into porcelain.

An open book
holds a sentence
like an unfinished threshold.

Outside, leaves
press the window,
carrying the scent
of earth and smoke.

I count the clock’s pauses
as if an hour
could hesitate.

I don’t listen to autumn
when it speaks of winter –
its words frost the breath
on glass,
and everything it says
breathes of ending.

I don’t listen to autumn.
Until spring.

---

Gordan Struić is a Croatian lawyer, poet, and musician from Zagreb. His work has appeared in numerous literary journals in Croatian and English, including 34th Parallel, Half Mystic, Stone Poetry Quarterly, and Headlight Review. In 2025, he received a Special Recognition Award at the Beyond Words contest in Trieste. He writes about silence, memory, and the ways small details can hold entire seasons.