| I love how summer wind makes daisies dance across the countryside in full array. My days are planned to capture ev'ry chance in frequent exploratory sessions, devouring Mother Nature's grand buffet of bewitching sensory impressions. When summer spirits spark a bit of bliss, a gray-haired couple trace eighty years, reminiscing as they laugh and kiss. Reflections of the past will help them cope, as they observe decline of withered peers, holding on to last frazzled thread of hope. I love the way the wind makes daisies dance when summer spirits spark a bit of bliss. Notes on the Cornish Sonnet form of poetry ▶︎ |