CONVALESCENCE FOLLOWING A HOUSE MOVE

Summer passed without my presence;
sunshine seen through many a window –
enforced bed rest no way to live
where I didn’t want to be.

Now the pendulum has swung
to Autumn with its evening chill,
yet still I lurk indoors in waiting
for release from prison cell.

An early harvest in the maize-field –
soon to come outside my window –
may reveal a wider prospect:
trees to titillate my will
to walk at last along the lane,
enjoy my freedom to the full.

I wanted to write something for dVerse Open Link Night, but poetry is hard to come by just now.  So, I turned to Shakespeare’s sonnets on my Kindle, from which number 12 sparked the germ of an idea – which turned into the quasi sonnet above – Shakespeare it is not, but it will have to do. Here’s a taste of what inspired me:

When I do count the clock that tells the time ….
…when  lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
and summer’s green all girded up in sheaves …
…and nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can make defence
save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

William Shakespeare, from Sonnet XII