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Seasonal Sonnet
by Janice D. Soderling

Winter is like love. Something floats down white
and pure to renovate a landscape dull
as porridge. Wham! Angelic spectacle,
a string quartet, a blazing meteorite.
Bedazzled every sense: sight, hearing, touch,
taste, smell, the works. Then comes a tedious lull.
You scrape the icy windshield, start to mull
(shoveling the drive): When is much overmuch?
You get cold feet, wet feet. Mid-winter thaw.
You shamble down the puddled streets in dread
(lover in tow) of meeting mom-in-law.
Like ice dislodged from roofs, she'd split your head.
Then love dissolves. A blessing from above.
Comes spring, and spring, we all know, is like love.

 

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