This sonnet is for Carrie Richards, an incredible poet, wonderful person,
And true friend. Soup is very lucky to have such a talent, here.
Your words inspire and your sunny smile is always a delight, Carrie.
Thank you for your friendship! BIG HUG! AND ANOTHER!
The Mill Race Festival bring in folk musicians from around the
World. The festival, in August, lasts three days and nights.
The Mill Race park in Cambridge Ontario is so beautiful
That weddings are held there. The park is built on the ruins
Of a mill. Many old stone walls still stand, a canal (the mill race/run)
Meanders through the park. There are many small, wood
Bridges, gardens and the view across the water is of
Century old churches with high steeples.
and post notes and photos about your poem.
A warbling vireo hops from oak to elm.
Your gaze wanders, too. This amphitheater
hosts the lyrical, almost overwhelms,
for beyond the mill ruins, the Grand River
is deep in thought, reflecting. It’s as though myth
lives; Summerland has come to the hillside
where weathered fieldstones beguile the impish
to dance. They do or else tin flutes will chide.
Though cozy the spot, the world is at our feet.
Tanned toes can not help but tap. Strong is the lure
of pipes and those songs that dulcimers keep.
When night softly falls, one group brings rapture.
They sing until stars tire and all are hoarse
like poets rousing words to supplicate verse.