In the Lap of Storms
Slumped do we seldom sit, nor breathe easy
Hitting home shores, nor in contentment coo,
Nor crow of struggling hard at stormy sea,
We pour sweat just as hard for goals still due.
On kissing them, for yet new ventures rise
To seed joys of success as yet unheard,
Ne’er rest in peace, eyes set on what yon lies,
Made we’re of mould not easily deterred.
To pray for fair passage is not our mark,
Nor ever on commitments compromise,
We look the storm in face and call its lark,
That, on safe shores we never set our eyes.
It’s not in us to breathe shallow at home,
Strange joys await us in the lap of storm.
_____________________
Sonnets | 03.09.2014 |
Taken from my book, Harvest of the Late Season, published by Penguin (partridge)
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