Springtime, Camped Between the Mountain Valleys
Springtime, camped between the mountain valleys.
Air filled with tickled laughter ventured through
canopy of leaves bathed a golden hue;
labyrinth fields sun's freedom to rally.
An owl rides the air stream, into darkness
against the fading moonlight to confront
joy of flying in silence of the hunt,
while crickets sing loudly in the stillness.
Rumbling sounds reach deep sleep from twice its breadth,
barely glean the worth turning into dreams
grasping the state of mind lapsed into deep,
a twilight world that knows not its own depth.
Waking up in the light of morning beams,
cooing sounds of mourning doves in nature's keep.
3/22/2018
Italian/Petrarchan Sonnet first 8 lines) abba abba (next 6 lines) cdecde
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