Sometimes, I admit, my sonnets take me strange places. This is not at all the poem I set out to write.

Sonnet 10

Holding On

Arise, summer, from ash of spring,
which came from sleeping winter’s bed.
Sunny, hot days are what you will bring;
the bounty of autumn still lies ahead.

Bring forth sunny, lovely days at the beach
hunting for seashells along sandy shore.
All happiness is within my reach;
just roll back the stone, open the door!

But how is it you’re still a month away?
I guess I must be content with dreams.
Despite the warm temperatures of today,
spring isn’t yet ready to let go it seems.

I won’t give up, I’ll continue my work
and wait for summer to heal my hurt.

Sonnet 9

Promise

What promise does the rose make
when spring season takes a turn to warm?
Petals of silk, make no mistake,
will take on the force of every storm.

Not so delicate a flower, it seems,
the rose withstands life’s trials and blasts
Rose’s thorny branches guard her dreams;
her passion holds her steady on her paths.

Her promise is made only to herself—
she locks it deep in her heart.
She may never achieve fame or wealth
but her world will always be full of art.

Don’t doubt the strength of a rose’s flame:
her passion and dreams you cannot tame.

Sonnet 8

Let the Dance Begin

“Let the dance begin,” declares Iris,
and roses join lilies on the dance floor;
while daisies and buttercups, desirous,
guard the violets we all adore!

Iris watches with stately grace
the festivities of her royal ball.
Spring proceeds at a hurried pace
she vainly wishes she could forestall.

Daffodils have long ago passed—
even dogwoods have gone to bed.
The best of us are not made to last,
she thinks with a shake of her head.

Each spring season must move on
and make way for summer’s  spawn.

I’ve been writing a haiku and a sonnet, technically taking the inspiration for the haiku from something I see that day that I take a photo of, then expanding the thought in the sonnet the next day. Today, however, I was privileged to see a Polyphemus moth (I think) spreading her wings for the first time, and of course I was inspired to write about it. I thought about holding this for the next sonnet, but I decided yesterday’s theme of hidden beauty could carry on to this one. It’s as little stretch, but I think you’ll understand why I went ahead with it.

Sonnet 7

She Flies

Hidden beauty in springtime glade
fearing the spotlight of the sun;
new life can never persuade
and it has no strength to run.

But watch as wings unfurl and warm,
as moth leaves her cocoon behind—
exquisite as she takes on her new form;
as life opens up, she’s no longer blind.

Watch spellbound as she spreads divine wings
and aims for the treetops, the clouds, the sky—
like Icarus she would cast off earth’s strings
now that she knows she knows how to fly!

Envy her freedom if you must
but never try to tie her to the dust.

Sonnet 6

Passing Fancy

Narcissus, aren’t you running a bit late?
I feel your season is quite nearly past.
The hour’s long gone for when we set our date.
Take this reminder: spring doesn’t last.

The azaleas are all but faded;
the dogwoods, too, have lost their bloom.
I know my words sound a bit jaded,
but you can’t expect our joy to resume.

The grass has grown a bit too long;
you coyly wink at me from its depths.
You’re coming on a little strong—
our love has taken its last breaths! 

And still your loving charms do entice…
though your concept of time isn’t precise.