Sonnet 23

We woke then to that brawny brilliant sun
And felt him thus proclaim our morning’s waste.
The night her gentle dream sweet course had run
And left this glaring stranger in her place.
His manner, rude and great, most to displease
Those souls enamoured still in tranquil rest,
And fur and feather rose at his decree,
In raucous chorus, omnipotence professed.
But you and I retained our lover’s stance
And watched his anger slowly mount on high,
And smiled when clouds obscured his lustrous glance,
Or when a cooling gentle breeze passed by.
For when you are with me there is no care,
And for this state the wrath of Kings I’d dare.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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