Summer Solstice

In June or July 2013 there was a short spell of quintessential summer weather which made me want to write a Shakespearian sonnet. It turned out rather Shakespearian in content as well as form.

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These sixty years and more I’ve gone about   
And gone about, sweating in the world’s show,   
Leeching cash and status like a glib tout, 
Grossly fawning then swapping blow for blow.

But now, body and soul-sore in my fall,    

The many splendours of the sun’s bold creatures
And the white moon’s sky-wide violet pall
Torment me in sessions as my impeachers. 

For the high solstice shuns all grubbing tasks

And lifelong misdirection’s no defence;
The pranking cranesbill flaps its glossy masks
And the cuckoo’s trickled song drenches sense:

Too late, indentures in this great assay I’ve had to prove,    

For now my summer’s lease is done and I must soon remove.

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© July 2013