My dear friend D. said that I should write more sonnets, that we should have a renaissance of sonnets from 16th century English to modern words. I don’t think I totally achieved that, but here’s Sonnet #2. (Mom, I know you’re not a fan of Sonnets, so I’ll do another poem for you, soon!)
From my 3rd-Floor Window
The maple finally bursts and seed pods bloom.
All different greens, and flower buds spring forth,
On different shrubs and trees. The cold brown earth
Lets go its captives from the winter gloom.
And from my window ‘bove the parking lot,
The place I sit and try to write these rhymes,
I close my eyes, and think of other times
When warmth returned, for in my wand’ring thought
The flow’rs, the grass, the sun, the moon, the wave,
Create a vision lovely in my eyes,
Until I’ve had my fill of them. I rise
And come back to my still and quiet cave.
But surely, in my mind and heart I’ll keep
This picture, when the winter snows are deep.