I saw you rise this morning
And climb up from earthen beds
Into the icy blue, where piling
You softly clamored into larger heads.
Than mine, which seems more bound
In mystery than you, whose essence is containment
Until you burst, and once again your bed have found
And dissipate, cast off as threadbare raiment.
Sometimes I feel like you I think:
Words building, thoughts rising, a straining, billowing sum
Then the snap, the turn, the bolt, the wink
And pouring out on page they come.
That clouds and I are close kin, I do not beg belief
But I do maintain, from time to time, we feel the same relief.
In the Poetry Workshop I am a part of we had to write a sonnet that conveyed a sense of pleasure, while also containing apostrophe. Let me know what you think. Had some fun writing this one, as I don’t really use end-rhymes in my poetry very often.