Sonnet 399

Were I but now the pitch-dark crow that files

Or yet a plain drab beetle on the ground,

A golden eagle that ascends on high

Or Yeti crab sea deep in crevice found;

Here still the light of life would course my veins

Imbuing there an essence old as time,

Thus where on high or far below the main

So share a bond that no soul can decry.

A life is still a life though great or small

And while our bonds be knit by narrow strands;

Whether we run, fly, slither, swim or crawl,

All grace born of four letters writ in sand.

So if these brethren vanish, n’er to see —

How ever lonely would our planet be.

Loubert S Suddaby poems