Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 53. Andrew Wyeth, and "bundled in grayness"
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Sonnet No. 105
Bundled in grayness, clouds become your coat –
You step out into the autumn's day and
Cast eyes skyward; tug a scarf 'round your throat –
For here conserved warmth takes the season's stand.
I love to see you prepped, just like a child,
Going out for a day of harvest work,
With clothes rigid, but with expression mild,
For apple-picking time we must not shirk.
And later, with our fruit and our labor,
Sweet cinnamon will lace our pies and sauce
So that our smiles and flatware may savor
Feeding the other by scooping his gloss.
So the day begins, and already ends;
Smiles and bright moods sheer happiness portends.
Sonnet No. 106
Safe in the folds of fiery autumn's glitter,
A painter nestled his private studio,
Where over and over he had one sitter
Gaze the landscape, while he built her folio.
'Helga,' for whom this shack was built, gazes out,
With the serenity only Love sees,
And will always live in His vision devout,
Though the world burn up, or totally freeze.
So too I cast about with words my paint
To reflect upon you, with reflected grace,
The hope the future won't think these are faint,
But through Love will be able to see your face.
Hills may yet roll, in the ever-shifting fire,
But return perennial, to new inspire.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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