Fourteen Beautiful Birds On Wings

Let some pack thirteen, a dozen to claim, A sonneteer comes with choicest fourteen Sweet lines to celebrate sonnet’s fine frame, That the magic marvels, stays ever green. And all fourteen fertilize, fully hatch As gorgeous birds priming wings as to fly In time, together still in a single batch, Or in varied formations in vast sky. The eight in front should propose a theme if, The six that follow form the counterpoint, Resolving thence – sonnet's true leitmotif, A Volta, taking a turn to anoint, The last two-- oft twain wings of a couplet, Sum up the song, what a chiselled nugget! 08.24.2020