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.

Sonnet 5

Spring Peace

In spring, find peace in forgetting it all
while you gaze up into the greening trees;
ignore it when the cares of the world call—
just replace your worries with dreams.

Surely this is what life is supposed to be:
comfort, ease, sun, blue sky and soft grass.
Tell me, were we not made to be free
to enjoy this life and sit on our ass?

But no, the stock market is in free fall
and the world never seems to be at peace.
We’re held, it seems, in misfortune’s thrall—
we seek death until it grants us release.

If only the rest of the world could see what I see
when I lay on my back and look up at a tree.

Sonnet 4

In the Field

Look at my yard, see all the weeds;
it takes no time at all for them to grow.
Surprising because I sowed no seeds—
’tis aggravating! I don’t want to mow!

But look, sprinkled in, the yellow and pink
blooms well loved by butterfly and bee.
They stop awhile to get a quick drink;
it’d be a shame to deny them their glee.

I’ll put off the chore until tomorrow,
and instead join the insects in the field.
Forget the weeds, the troubles and sorrow;
when I look at the flowers my soul is healed.

Seldom ever is there a field of waste—
Beauty will grow in the same place.

Sonnet 3

Healing Night

Night falls over my little home
and stars poke out from the sky.
Clouds cover moon with gentle foam;
traffic silenced, I hear the treefrog cry.

Peace is what I seek this night—
I want quiet, just a little break.
Warm velvet replaces spotlight:
comforts, soothes, relieves the ache.

In spring it is easy to find peace
in the warm, calm hours of eventide.
Look beyond the flowers and trees
to the stars and moon in the sky outside.

Let go of the fears and unease you feel;
allow your heart-deep cracks to heal.