...just sitting out there on the back stoop.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCIV)


What gives?  While twilight haunts the fragile sense
The minutes linger, and soft blue heavns pale
Lo, e'er so subtly, traffic on its way t'avail
This start of ya, the weekend, whither hence?
Hark! as the robins (distant) scold fr'intents,
And sparrows' eager cries half calm to scale,
Where now suspense half rises in a frail
Excuse upon its elbow, ask me whence.
Erst wont to sit at gathring twilight fer
These little calls and noises trickling through
The madder haste to be elsewhere in tour,
To listen once again is sweet.  I knew
All this when Mum was back indoors, when her
Face welcomed my return.  What's changed?  What's new?

22Mar19d