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L14: No, ***** but...enjoy the moment. (sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXVIII) The mourning dove ere twilight yield calls, whence Orange winks upon thet waking thought's detail, And lo, I hear it softly coo.  Grey mists in frail Nigh ghostly touch a thin suggestion, thence Do maples faintly shiver in suspense? I thank the LORD for that voice on the pale First notes of whither, erst wont to avail My soul, and dawn sifts through to crown that sense. How Joey worked "each day this week," yet fer All that's forever on my mind.    What, to Effect, now does the culver's song as twere Mean?  How I used to know.  Or thought I knew. Now like a memry of sweet days lost, poor Though what be?  Does it bless our hopeful dew? 05Jul17b
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Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 8:16 PM UTC
There's Something Sweet About Being: Still.
L14: No, ***** but...enjoy the moment. (sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXVIII) The mourning dove ere twilight yield calls, whence Orange winks upon thet waking thought's detail, And lo, I hear it softly coo.  Grey mists in frail Nigh ghostly touch a thin suggestion, thence Do maples faintly shiver in suspense? I thank the LORD for that voice on the pale First notes of whither, erst wont to avail My soul, and dawn sifts through to crown that sense. How Joey worked "each day this week," yet fer All that's forever on my mind.    What, to Effect, now does the culver's song as twere Mean?  How I used to know.  Or thought I knew. Now like a memry of sweet days lost, poor Though what be?  Does it bless our hopeful dew? 05Jul17b
I read something recently about mourning doves' call and--but I forget what it was; it was good, though.
JennyGordon
Written by
51/F/Bolingbrook, IL
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 8:16 PM UTC
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