Humid the dew of day's new dawn
And gone and gone the august wind goes
North through niches of mountains' brawn
Comes no more frost from cold windows
A business gone, for none need scarves
Nor cars, but bars still 'ttract said men;
the kerf cut clean as Company carves
While churches sweep in the rest again
Though classic splay of winter-harsh nights
No longer looms for on us to prey
There's still the cry, the croon of blights
Even in a new spring day.
The question now that stands astute:
will spring coax out valued trees to fruit?
1 comment:
I really like the imagery in the second stanza. Overall a very well made sonnet.
I think perhaps the word "astute" could be changed in the last stanza.
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