Sonnet CCCXLV

Demonic monsters of the turbid sky,
guffawing with your gaping mouths like beasts -
away, away! Take wing and swiftly fly!


Regarding jealously at all who feast
and clammoring for every greasy piece -
away, away! We steadfastfully ignore!


The children, fearful, hurry to their seats,
or else combat the grey-specked, greedy hoard.
For such disturbance, there is no reward!
Mind quickly to yourselves, o scavengers...


There's scraps upon the ground - don't ask for more.
Your gluttony grows only angrier;
the laden tables are your battlegrounds -
away, away! Show mercy this time round!

Sonnet CCCXLIV

Upon the hills that roll up to the sky
there lies a lone and steadfast aspen tree.
Come fall, the leaves glint gold and mutely fly
alighting on the rippling grassy sea.
With envy have I wished to be that free,
to voyage recklessly upon the air;
But never could I steer my destiny –
that endless flight would quickly bring despair.


Oh, what an empty life to live and share,
a one of many empty clones.
Then what a joy to be that tree up there;
But what unhappiness to be alone,
so mighty, yet forlorn upon the hill –


How better yet to be a human still!

Sonnet CCCXLIII

And afternoon glints faintly on the leaves,
As if that gold were all too rich to lend.
The seagulls cackle, joyous, from the eaves –
some avian joke I cannot comprehend.


One eyes me beadily – did I offend?


I nibble on a snack I saved from noon
and watch his greed evolve to merriment.
He squawks and screams, the mad bird like a loon,
expecting some reward for such a tune.
I turn away, but crumbs fall to the ground.
I watch, dismayed, to see him claim the boon.


Devouring quickly, flapping all around,
I watch him with amusement as he eats –
As if the thief deserved such stolen treats!

Sonnet CCCXLII

The moths flit through the sea, ephemeral;

each emerald wave progresses quicker past.

The sky is blushing like a love-struck girl

and dreams, her troubled forehead overcast.

The youth of day, her liveliness fade fast;

great mountains frame the twilight of her face.

Her blazing iris tumbles shut at last:

the birds come flying for one last embrace,

imparting to that cheek an everlasting grace.

When laid to rest, surrounded by the earth,

unseeing eyes shall still observe this place.

The clouds forever sail this planet’s girth -

No death could steal them from my feeble grasp;

and evermore the grass shall faintly rasp!