Sonnet 327

A nascent lily breaches frozen ground,
The resurrection of another year;
While dregs of winter’s plague yet here abound
A joyful pleasing chorus fills the air.
Fond hope arises earlier each day
To warm the hearts of denizens who sing
The blessing of sweet life in buoyant praise,
Quite certain of the bounty bliss shall bring.
This is the time when all thought turns to love
And so of nature, my thoughts turn to you,
Much like the minstrels in the skies above
Who pour their souls out to the ones they woo.
But I who lack their skill if not their song,
Trill out in ink a zeal, if proved, as strong.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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