Sonnet Challenge #33

I haven’t posted a sonnet in a while.  I was going to post one about hot flashes (seeing as I’ve been enjoying to the extent that I need to start laughing about it) but Andrew Eales’ post this morning reminded me about this sonnet:

Birdsong

It’s in man’s heart, because it’s in his head
to merge both words and music into song.
There’re places in our brains they both belong
together – feelings more than just what’s said.
But too, we wonder how that seed was sown
that made us lilt our words into a tune.
Was it the wolves a-howling at the moon
or cat’s meow, or buck’s loud rutting groan?
It’s much more likely that the sound above
that we sometimes call angels, were the trills
inspiring us to develop singing skills
to tell our stories, feelings, sadness, love.
Whatever was that singing that we heard
outside our souls? It was a little bird.

Another sonnet.

Sometimes it gets quiet at art fairs.  There is often a bit of a lull around lunch time.  If I’m sitting at the back of the booth at the desk, I’ll often use the time to work on my bucket list item of more Shakesperean sonnets than Shakespeare.  Flagstaff was productive and I was able to write a sonnet each of the three days.  I sometimes have to search around for inspiration, Saturday’s inspiration was the nest of sparrows within tweeting distance.

Sparrows

The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain

Take another look and listen, think again!

Another sonnet.

I’m still working on that bucket list of writing more Shakespearean sonnets than ‘The Bard’ himself, and sometimes a quieter hour at an art fair can be productive.  Will had the opportunity to write about sparrow, but didn’t, though I don’t think he would ever have seen some of those mentioned, they just weren’t available there!

 

Sparrows

The sparrow has more color than you’d think

(but painters know burnt umber, wine, ecru)

and though they seem to flit off in a wink

the observer sees the little things they do.

Sometimes they’ll dust in patches of soft sand

and often in a puddle from the rain

with wriggling bodies, wings aflutter, and

the knowledge that they’ll soon feel fresh again.

The well-trained ear can spot each different call –

the black-throat’s glockenspiel and house’s cheep

the white-crowned sparrow’s sweet melodious trill

and common to them all, the young chick’s tweet.

So if you ever thought sparrows were plain,

Take another look and listen, think again!