In season, sonnets often find their bloom

In season, sonnets often find their bloom by trailing lesser forms towards the light; a patient wait’s reward is greater room, and thus they are content to just sit tight. But once a way appears, they make their move and quickly seize the opportunity. Iambs, awkward at first, begin to groove and make connections naked eyes scarce see. Then bursting forth, the buds now put on flesh, give weight to what was formerly a hint. With careful pruning, parts are truly meshed, can best express their purposeful intent. When poets cultivate a love’s pursuit, the sonnet bears the sweetest of the fruit.