This is my second attempt at a sonnet. In contrast to the complexities of Shakespeare’s work or a fine sonnetist like Edna St. Vincent Millay, this looks pretty paltry. However, I am just proud to get it on the page. I am only now learning about iambic pentameter, poetic feet, quatrains and couplets (well, I did actually know what a couplet was before I started). I am aware my rhythm may be off. I’m still working on that! Alas, here is my small offering.
Sometimes, outside on a warm summer’s day,
Filling my bag with oranges from the trees.
I watch a hawk soar through the sky, then sway,
its wings spread wide to catch the gentle breeze.
Then, breaking from my duties at mid-day,
To rest a while and eat a small repast.
I often hear a distant horse’s neigh,
Transporting me to when I was a lass.
I drive with my dad to feed our cattle,
Skirting puddles to miss the mud and muck.
We cross our field with a lurch and rattle
How I love to maneuver that old truck!
Who knew what delight our senses could bring?
Painting rich scenes that spur the soul to sing.