Spring and Et Cetera

Write a sonnet about radiance

This morning the birds on wires are writing power ballads. As they scatter across the blue each one adds a note to the symphony of clouds and sky.

November’s yellowed lawn seems warmer in the rising sun and even a neighbor’s leftover electric reindeer are awash in impressionism.

I want to immerse life in a new language. Make weather my personal metaphor. Write a sonnet about radiance and dedicate it to the ghosts of radical prodigals.

Sometimes I’m faded and frayed around the edges like the photo someone broken still carries in their wallet but only looks at in bars. Sometimes I’m just about done.

Then spring light strikes against landscape and a blaze of healing burns away all the dark ideas. I close my eyes and count to three, cross my fingers behind my back.

This isn’t a sonnet but it was William J Spirdione — the sonnet master — who got me thinking about them. Also, ScienceDuuude put me in a poetic frame of mind this morning.

You might also like: