Sonnet 7 For Debbie's Crown of Sonnets
I must build a shelter, to fight off the cold.
A rugged fortress lest poachers return –
My bloody blazer, now, filthy fivefold!
I am shivering cold; fire won’t burn.
I stealthily creep seeking higher ground.
With every fear a worn mind can churn,
I crawl beneath some trees; more wood is found.
Two bundles, brushwood: birch twigs, logs, to burn.
I build a warm blaze upon the bare earth.
Then, cook up some vittles: vermin and fern.
While feeding my hunger, I loosen my girth.
Then, see a mineshaft; my hope starts to yearn.
Distantly hidden, completely unmanned.
Through the north woods I come, my bow in hand.
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