My rondeau, a light and merry thought,
is given in the hope that nought
of ugliness will intervene
in sunlit meadow, no trouble sought
for my rondeau.
Winter stasis – season flawed –
going soon. Days that were short
lengthen, adamant, unseen
the planetary laws at work
to lift my rondeau.
The time is near when we can walk
unfettered, reborn and brought
in freedom to dance, to seem
lighter yet, as in our teens –
joyful for my rondeau.
This is a new one, the last of my form poems for the rhyme prompt at Phoenix Rising, a rondeau (plural rondeaux) , a form of French poetry with 15 lines written on two rhymes. It makes use of refrains where I have (as usual) taken liberties .