Verdure ~ A Sonnet

Starved of the colour, come September,
my eyes are hungry for the night rains
and I hear the roots of grass gasp in pain
to feel the sap rise – and I remember

the touch of your eyes upon my bare skin –
reflection of thick-leaved trees on the lake,
the woods, the weeds, the pasture-path you take
and every journey’s end brings home the green.

True, the drought depletes, grief feeds on ashes
yet a full moon drips silver from sultry clouds
on upturned hands of imploring branches –

love returns, scattering seeds on dry ground
and we can only grow again, live passion
as verdant buds springing fresh from the brown.



A Neruda-style sonnet for Kim's challenge: A Rainbow of Sonnets.