The world is outside
our control, too big to lift
and much too big to
carry. Two friends stand
at the corner shaking heads,
shaking hands. Their eyes
connect at a spot
on the ground between them, and
each stalls at goodbye.
You and I exchange
a look to acknowledge our
common regard. Sun
seeps like water into day.
You reach for my hand.
This sonnet is the third after “Departures” and “Signal to Noise” in a Fall Crown to replace the Summer Crown on this site.
Filed under: American Life, Chicago, Culture, Fall, Haiku, Haiku Sonnets, Hope, Human Nature, Identity, Literature, Longing, Memory, Musings, Neighbors, Poetry, Sonnets, Thoughts, Writing
This is so beautifully done; I felt like I was right there between them. I’m glad this is the poem to set the tone of my day, Felso.
Thank you! I hope you will get a chance to come back to see the rest of the crown assembled…I’m also hoping I can assemble some more sonnets! —D
Lovely moment beautifully described. Makes me wish I could write poetry. Believe me, I can’t. Nor carry a tune.
As you’ve heard me say, I’m not sure I can write poetry either. By the time I finished at Bennington, I wasn’t sure I knew what a poem is anymore. Now it feels as though I’m passing through self-conscious and moving toward unconscious. That’s dangerous territory too, but at least it’s not so torturous! —D
Like TIV, my admiration for you is boundless, since I cannot write poetry to save my life. Which is a fairly frightening idea to imagine. Anyhow… yes, beautiful image here.
Thank you—both of you are really too nice. I am still working on the end of this crown, and—it’s funny—you just have to act on faith hoping something will come to you. This will be the last of my seasonal crowns though. I wrote one last winter, which means the year will come round after this one. I expect to feel relieved. —D