Elizabethan Sonnet for Autumn
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The rain looks silky like a spider web.
The days bring new tales of woe in mid-air.
On streets, the ramblers are at a low ebb.
New choleric clouds reduce the sun’s glare.
A rain of shattered bliss~ an Irish keen;
A snake, the lightning bolt coils in the sky.
Beckoning the sunbeams for the last green,
The blind blow of the gale is a deep cry.
These cold rains don’t stop amid the hot dreams.
Nature will disappear in ignorance.
It’s hard to envision maternal limbs.
The spring’s milky grin is a remembrance.
The bliss and the sunbeams cannot be near.
At the equinox, they can disappear.
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