Sonnet CCCXXII

The human heart is full of treachery:
for some know wicked arts of flattery,
which – fused with coldness – prove unstoppable,
transforming wise men into simple fools.

The moths are hiding on the bark of trees;
the katydids blend in with all the leaves –
such sly deception’s even learned by them!
Beware – the world is full of wicked men!

But time and time again we’re aptly fooled:
an eyespot here, a clever colour there!
How hated is that smile, so amused,
concealing such betrayals of our care!

We’ll one day read the patterns of the moths,
or else we’ll still be fraught with rage and loss!

Sonnet CCII

The cooking days in cooking class were tons of fun:
there was a silly time I added tablespoons
of salt instead of smaller teaspoons in the food;
another time we made some cinnamon-y buns,
but made the larger, double recipe and some
had overflowed and burned into a blackened soot.
And when we used the powdered broth and not the soup,
our pasta turned too salty for our hungry tongues.

And though we had our share of small and great mistakes,
we kept on making cookies, mac and cheese, and cakes.

And so our cooking days last year were fun and odd:
we laughed at what we did and how we slyly faked
to like the food we cooked despite our small mistakes.
And yet, we learned so much, by silly errors taught.