Sonnet 458

How clever is the hare whose coat does change
To suit the seasons as they come and go,
So matching colors to the shifting range,
A magic garment circumstance controls.
In spring a mottled match of brown and white
And summer’s best, a blush of chestnut hues;
Autumn’s span a race to winter’s blight,
Yet which to don and still upon what cue?
This costumery garb couched in intrigue,
It’s clever purpose clear of wit designed
To outfox those who cannot see the need
Of vestments worn to yet dumb fate align.
Transmuting raiments for another’s eyes,
How like a woman in this wily guise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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