Those Canadien snow geese are the soul
The azaleas in the Spring
They have nowhere to go
But one can hear them sing.
That was a little poetical fragment that came to me on a walk just now, in the gorgeous springtime air, of course a little Starbucks influenced as well as the air, water, Sun, geese, birds singing. Maybe I’ll make it into a longer piece, or maybe I’ll just leave it as it is. Feels honest. Anyway, below is my latest “Sonnet” installment
Sonnet #3 in Iambic Trimeter
We can not face ourselves.
There has to be a way.
We’re grasping for the trails
Of fairies on the lake.
I wanted you to know
We’re oxygen that see
A blanket in the snow
Of flying wild white geese.
We have too many things.
Sight blinded by two eyes.
The trails go out in rings
Soul’s wings that spray the skies.
When we accept this ride
Then Isis is our bride.