Sometimes I hate myself, my voice....



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXX)


If sorrows dog my path, how storm clouds' dense
Rack tinged a deeper navy with a trail
Of peach hang low, and ah, the dove t'avail
Coos softly as the sparrows tease fr'intents,
And if we could forget, or laugh from hence
Without that being--a sin is't? which detail
Then would we notice?  How wind's exhale
Is just as tender, warmth a fragile sense?
If only in all we'd praise Thee in tour,
LORD, see afar off past these heavns' fraught blue,
Yea, know beyond our tongues' recital--You.
See all, e'en as the goldfinch merr'ly stir
Soft happiness, where ah, the dove flew fer
All that from hence, see thus as we should do.

27Mar19b