Cheeky Missy
This Is Truly a Little Pickle...
On the Last Morn of September
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCCXCIV)
Eer morning break, mists like swamp monsters hail
Aught daring to escape is\'t? Rising thence
Upon the highway\'s outskirts, huge and dense
White looming oer the massy trees\' detail
As if to chase all who would head North, they\'ll
Be whom fogged up my windows oernight, hence
Is\'t on my heels now I\'d go home?! Come, whence?
September dawns as Autumns wont, t\'avail.
Three lanes of heavy traffic stopped in poor
\'Scuse ten miles from home, did my pause spare to
Effect, or cause it somehow? Get gas fer
The prices farther South and how I\'ll rue
It as how many wrecked their cars?! Bestir
The thought of later, once home, and what\'s new?
30Sep24a
Alice In Wonderland\'s So Long Ago
(sonnet #MMMMMMMMDCCXCV)
Night, on the clock, a dream flown with a sense
Of bits and pieces I half cherish, frail
As being left fragile on the next shift, hail
Sweet afternoon with ev\'ry mem\'ry thence
Eclipsed by what comes later, til pretense
Was that vain thought we knew what was, as\'t fail
Before the madness of sheer yonder\'s trail
Which pushes forward, e\'er relentless. Whence?
Distract me with my duties til my poor
Case has a smaller voice, and will that do?
If I shall say with Job, \"...He knows in tour
The way I take, shall bring me forth unto
Himself as gold--\" I\'ll be fine. Oh bestir
Thy mercies and preserve me unto You.
30Sep24b