Yesterday, I posted about stressful Mondays, and the unwinding of that stress (or at least of some of it) by a view of sky and river. That post was somewhat comic (I hope), but I realized I also had written a sonnet, Shakespearean, of a slightly more serious nature on the same subject. The poem doesn’t actually deal with Mondays, but it does describe some of the unwinding offered by the flow of sky and water.
Post-Eden
Before the sky, a lovely pale, a boy,
tall on glistening grass, tosses a ball,
and I wonder why it is that joy
is not simply inhaled. Is it the Fall
that keeps us from feeling how it lines
the air we breathe? Is it that first loss
that keeps us toiling within the confines
of our skins, unheeding unhidden cost?
A soft haze, like a blessing, nestles on
the sea, mutes the horizon, brings the far near.
So much within reach. The brain wrestles on
its hardscrabble way, yet slowly fear
unwinds, diminished by sky, sea, view.
An inner hand makes the catch, more too.
(All rights reserved. Karin Gustafson)
(I am linking this sonnet to Gooseberry Garden’s poetry picnic. They have a very active and supportive poetry community.)
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