Weather
Each day, the dawn reconstitutes our world.
Navy blue shades into lilac and gold,
reversing evening lights, and we are hurled
out of dreams, into stories yet untold.
What weather ticks against the window pane
or streams in as urgently as birdsong?
What internal turbulence might remain
from a conversation yesterday, strong
enough to shape, in answer, an insight,
or push us toward a bedrock truth at last?
Often stumbling, night-blind, we move toward light
each day we live, however overcast.
Dawn brings a form of storm as yet unwrit,
blowing in to see what we’ll make of it.
Leslie Schultz
Today’s poem is an attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet.
HAPPY SHAKESPEARE’S BIRTHDAY!
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I love the line “… we are hurled out of dreams, into stories yet untold.” Marvelous!
What a wonderful image! Yes, more standing up for poetry, for recitation, for Shakespeare!
Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed to “hear” a sonnet until just now. I was compelled to read it aloud again and again. While doing so, I vividly recalled my HS English teacher, Len Bennett, who was known to stand atop his desk to recite Shakespeare.
Thank you, dear Stella. I struggled with this one, so I am especially glad it spoke to one reader. Leslie
I am often impressed with the sonnets you compose, Leslie. Thank you for this lovely one.