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Natural Instinct

Three Sonnets tell a story, in sequence.
[From the narrative poem, "Don't Go to Wyoming Alone"]

         I. Natural Instinct  (Chivalric Sonnet)

He saves a wad of cash and designates
the stash to finance trek in far-off land
in hunting boots and custom gun he built 
for me with love and hope for trophy grand.

"Is this a trip I've dreamed about?" I ask.
"Can I enjoy the hunt, savor the kill?"
I contemplate the danger in that land -
will heat, dry thirst and bugs defeat my will?

Might this be atmosphere I cannot stand?
Excitement builds as I heft gun with ease
and find the answer soon on target range
as my bull's eye displays my expertise.

Though I have no inborn instinct to kill,
my reason tells me not to waste this skill.

               II. Lost Vacation  

Our trip is planned, we'll soon be on our way,
he's called and found the perfect spot to stay.
The husband leads you out to hunt the wild
as room is cleaned, clothes pressed, wife cooks gourmet.

Alas, things change, his current bent is new.
While Mom and I go west without a clue
he flies the skies to satisfy desire
from Air Force days where first the hunger grew.

But circumstance forced him to stay aground,
our funds were tight and kept him budget bound.
Since children now are wed and off the corn
he's free to choose to play or bum around.

When we return from trek out west by train,
he's spent vacation cash to buy a plane.




              III. New Dimension (Couplet Sonnet)

What fun we've had in years of golden age
as we, in freedom's row, our thirsts assuage.

We climb above the ground in utter glee
and view the earth below from Cherokee.

We join a pilot's group and meet new friends.
We travel now as time and space portends.

Each time we fly we bring two more because
two empty seats invite our friend's' applause.

But soon we build a smaller home down south.
I close my ears as words come out his mouth,

"The plane's for sale, I need a tractor now
to plow off snow and grade the road."  It's how

our trip to Africa, in quickened time,
became a tractor.  Surely, that's a crime.

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Gary Bateman Date: 10/8/2014 4:19:00 AM Cona, a quite marvelous write here!! I enjoyed very much your linkage of the sonnets to present your story. A very artful approach indeed. This one's a "7" and a FAV. Best Wishes, Gary Login to Reply Cona Adams Date: 10/8/2014 5:29:00 AM Thank you, Gary. We certainly have had an interesting life. Thanks for reading. We were attending the annual poetry retreat in Eureka Springs, when someone gave me the title for the first poem, "Don't Go to Wyoming Alone," and that was the beginning of recording what actually happened.