Living where I do presently, writing sonnets about each rainy day might well make for several hundred sonnets. Therefore, of course I do not do that! On the other hand.....sometimes they can seem so inspiring, especially since I am observing them and reacting to them. Hence, my apologies, but, yet another one.....enjoy??
This one turned into a series of so far two sonnets.
[Now, here's a note for you critics: when I began typing this up, I discovered (to my horror) that I'd twice used "left" and easily too, so had to alter it. See if you can find the one I had to alter and what you think of how well or poorly I did it, eh?]
(sonnet # CCCXXXI)
Another dim and rainy morn rose o'er
The gently dripping dismal world Fall left
To Winter's care; a sluggish dawn bereft
Of cheer except in mists' romance, whose lore
Sufficed to reconcile the sodden store
Of muted orange', lush greens, street's grey; whose heft
Fair Fancy's myst'ry winsome made, with deft
Skill charming somber vistas as before.
Or, what makes such forlorn sights more benign?
What blessing softly graces mis'ry's woe?
What whispers comfort when besieged quite pine
And waste away, beset above strength, though
Alive, yet barely scraping by? What wine
Enables one to press ahead, what glow?
22Nov11
D20a
A superb sensory sonnet imbued with autumnal hues, aromas and flavours... season of mist and mellow fruitfulness, indeed.