That fact is what troubles my men.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLXXI)


Snow diamonds scintillate as wont in pale
And lonely lamplight, blacker depths just hence
On all sides in the wee hours where I thence
Look out the kitchen window to avail
Long after midnight.  Then where dawn's eye'd hail,
Blue shadows cozen that small corner whence
See in the winking shafts how lo, they fence
The view with dazzling sparkles like to scale.
Tis Sunday.  Noon haunts plans whiles O! in poor
'Scuse ne espressos for this morning to
Effect finds me half wandring like to stir
Aught else might well, um, cure me. What is new?
We're captives, sold unto which potion fer
Our souls?  The racking clouds leave snow blind too.

27Jan19a