I just can’t quit writing poems. I’ll get back to regular word tastings, don’t you worry, but first, here’s a sonnet.
Now take my hand: the light is getting dim.
Our world is too soon turning from the sun.
The green has gone from every freezing limb.
The garish lighting season has begun.
Now hold my arm: the day is growing dark.
Electric candle armies seize the street.
We cannot safely walk across the park
For fear of slipping blindly in the sleet.
Now grasp my waist: the night has taken hold.
All life is flicking fireflies in the gloom,
And puffy parkas blindly scud the cold
As we watch through the window in our room.
Now pull the curtain; now pull me to you—
Tenebrity is warm and tender too.
Sesquiotica 