Sonnet: Lost Tradition

White-clad cottages, stand like dominoes Each one integral, each one unique The land they stand on archaic, antique Their owners tend to the cattle who low,   In the communal fields shared down below The seeds of grass, stolen by a crow’s beak Returning to a nest over a creek, Does little to the fields.... Continue Reading →

Sonnet: Fire

During that first hour the fire is too cold, Starting small with paper and dry kindling, It’s not too long before they start dwindling. Add coals and logs, have patience, and behold,   As the fire consumes watch the flames grow gold. As each log burns, I watch as it turns black Then white. Knowing... Continue Reading →

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