And so it’s done. And it was really fun. A challenge indeed. Perhaps some rest I need.

Sonnet 15

Fashion Flash

Purple is the color this spring;
from coast to coast, it is the rage.
Don lavender attire when dressing—
perform a twirl as you take the stage.

Forget the pinks and greens of yesteryear;
cast off rose-colored raiment and robe.
Today’s tint is arrived, it’s here!
Making a mark all around the globe.

Try on every dress but discard each?
You can’t expect to become a violet
The iris, too, is beyond your reach.
Such finery, no, you can’t acquire it.

But…maybe it’s better not to pretend?
We can only be ourselves in the end.

Sonnet 14

Choosing the Battle

Wait if you will for the wind to blow
you from your stem into the world,
I refuse to believe I’m just for show,
though it’s easier to wait, arms unfurled

for the next breath to set me aflight.
Instead of struggling over the hilltops
to the crest of the mountain—always a fight—
just let the breeze carry me through raindrops.

But no, it’s my life, I must make my own way,
carry my own weight where I wish to go.
If I tamely wait here, I may fall prey
to lethargic languor and become too slow.

I will struggle on always though it is hard
and I may arrive at last, battered and scarred.

Sonnet 13

Spring’s Mad Dance

Do you want to waltz with spring?
When everyone’s in their best dress
throw out your arms, embrace everything!
Let worries and fears go to rest!

Look here, the roses are blushing pink,
the shy daisy is showing his heart.
Bold azalea has awarded you a wink
and the dance has yet to start!

Sweet violet, won’t you stay by my side
when others crowd out on the floor?
You and I can find a place to hide;
I know I’d never ask for more.

In the midst of spring’s mad dance
let’s pause and give love a chance.

Sonnet 12

To the Rain God

When I heard the rain last night
I longed to go out to greet it.
Wouldn’t that have been a sight:
me in my sweats, arms out to meet it?

Maybe I would have done a dance, 
a little twirl or two of thankfulness,
for all the gifts the rain god grants:
the beauty pure and fabulous.

In the end, I didn’t go out at all,
I stayed tame and alone in my bed.
I have neighbors I don’t want to appall
when I get a weird notion in my head.

I’m sorry, rain god, if my thanks you seek—
but maybe next time I won’t be so meek.

Sonnet 11

Unpretentious Liaison

How is it such a perfect scent
emanates from one so modest?
It wafts across city cement
through the pollen, gravel and dust.

With every breath I suck it in—
take a moment to appreciate
the aroma that calls to mind spring
that a humble flower can create.

I must force my feet to move on
for if I remain everyone will know
about my longed for liaison…
and why it is I don’t wish to mow.

Who would have thought the simplest clover
would be the one I fawn over?