A Petrarchan Sonnet
The scent of citrus rides the morning air
As golden light slips through the waking leaves
And dances on the dew the meadow weaves
A hush of hope is whispered everywhere
The gentle hush dispels the midnight’s care
While nature stretches, stirs, and softly heaves
And songbirds stir the soul that once bereaves
The starlit dreams dissolve without despair
The warmth of dawn now rises o’er the land
It bathes the hills in streams of amber light
Each golden hour drawn by heaven’s hand
Dispelling remnants of the fading night
It calls the heart once more to take a stand
Paint peace on every door with colors bright
04-17-2025
Vic Evora