And When the Snow Started Falling

On that December night

And when the snow started falling on that December night
a spell was cast above ground and below
muffling every sound beneath a blanket of white
carpeting the pillaged meadow where flowers used to grow

and when the thick clouds parted and drifted away
the stars in their benevolence blinked like sleepy cats
knowing they must vanish when night succumbs to day
enjoying their seductive role the more because of that

and when an owl started calling from a withered tree
ignoring the cold, the wind, and the snow
in his courting as ardent as he will ever be
himself a small part of life’s irresistible flow

then a brief peace enveloped this small place on earth
and for a moment every being was conscious of its worth.

When writing a sonnet, the form acts for me like the framework of a puzzle. With the borders of the puzzle already placed, I enjoy fitting in the pieces for the rest of the puzzle.

Here is an example of another of my sonnets that appeared a while ago in Scribe:

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