He paused a bit; syllables he’s counting
For he’s obsessed, enamored with sonnets
Write he must, a poem about bluebonnets
Iambic pentameter; so constraining!
That’s how he liked it– it’s stimulating;
In his head, music paced by castanets
A fast flamenco with Spanish brunettes;
As he smiled; creative juices flowing!
Thesaurus in hand, he flipped the pages
Synonyms, antonyms and words rhyming
Writing, toe-tapping while making changes
Frowning, lips-pursing, melody humming
May not be the sonnet for all ages
But when done, it shall be satisfying!
On a lonely Texas road, late April
Awestruck he gazed at a bluebonnet field
Up meadows down vales till evergreens shield
Nature’s wonders gave a singular thrill!
Though the sun shines in the spring air a chill
Last winter’s bare hills bluebonnets concealed
Eyes feasting on the landscape now revealed,
Views that years from now he’ll remember still
To pay their respects monarchs visited
They kissed the petals oh so indiscreet
A billion flow’rs, supply’s unlimited
Honeybees stopped to gather nectar sweet
Basking in beauty, he’s now riveted
Down he went to touch flowers at his feet!
© Vic Evora