What it is

June 2010: In a desperate attempt to stave off senility, the monkey began writing a poem a day. By summer's end he'd begun to run out of versified political rants and philosophical bloviations. Then he hit on the improbable idea of writing micro fiction in the form of Elizabethan sonnets. Eureka. The birth of the "Sonnets From Other Lives" series. Two hundred plus lives later, he's still at it.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

12/15
Sonnets From Other Lives: Holly

Holly loves these skeletons of trees—
exposed after the Pineapple Express
gleaned them of their last reluctant leaves
& left the copse behind her house undressed.
She pulls her wellies on & calls the dog
& swathed in wool & oilcloth steps outside.
The pathway’s muckish, but she’s game to slog
across a barren field where someone tried
to make a go of growing Christmas trees
& after harvest never did replant.
The rains force us to just let the land be
free of all the things we’d do but can’t.
Holly scouts out newly exposed nests.
The dog is busy. The world around him rests.
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