Whateffer.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXIV)


Smoke like a haunting veil the greener sense
Of trees now sifts through, what are blue skies' hale
Note as how fire licks up the trimmings' tale
Whiles maple boughs just nod, leaves whispring thence
In concert to winds' playful touch as hence
What traffic is speeds past like that'd avail?
Should I dream of gone camping in betrayl?
I'm sold to Joe, where fishing chases whence.
Don't tell me twas a sorry joke he'd stir,
This whiter smoke at intervals some cue
Or screen I should consider as it were.
His eyes lost their mystique when I'd yield to
Those overtures.  Tell me that patience'd cure
The fishy sense whose ghost belies he'd woo.

08Jul17c

sigh* as evidenced by which pieces "trend" being depressed is tops, while beauty is left to rot.  Whateffer.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXVII)


Blue skies.  And golden light with shadows' pale
Forms on the yellowed lawns and blacktop hence,
Sweet minutes whose eye seems tis April's, whence
My heart yearns 'gain to walk free and avail
Me of which blossom?  Daffodils to scale
Shall send green nubbins up til for intents
Their frilly golden heads can nod from thence
To playful breezes while wee violets hail.
Yea, soon Magnolia petals shall bestir
'Gain to soft winds, and pink-tinged satin woo
Thoughts of a bride upon the aisle as twere.
For now we'll have our refried beans and do
Dessert in birthday style with cake in tour
And ice cream for the Ides of March' ado.

15Mar19d