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The Tempest’s Heights

…audacity’s plight

author: MS Paint

The sage wrings sonnets from heartfelt bawling In contempt of windswept summers’ delights Cool breezes — in hope a suitor’s calling In the midnight hour, near the tempest’s heights He might delay love — albeit feigning Forestall a passage midst a song’s lament Induce outflow — when all tears are draining Or construct a levee to circumvent In pride he strides the stage as an outcast Chides his emperors, successors, and heirs Goes unwashed, downwind, this iconoclast Slovenly slanders — false witness he bears Truth be known he’s more likely an outlaw Uncouth in manner — should be coauthored Will not plead guilty and quick to the draw Leading pigs to water and to slaughter Just don’t get him started on summers’ days Or upon old wives’ tales — I hear you — say! For better or for worse — or the inverse Write what you will, but sunshine makes for hay In winter he packs his sonnets away Squirrels those nuts for each day he must play And when spring arrives the sage can’t delay Peak season; the notes now steal from the drey Threatening a storm — but are quick to proclaim *Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day

* line from Shakespeare’s sonnet

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