RECEIVING SONNET
by Marie Elena
Photo by Keith R. Good
The very word is musical, to me.
Her soft iambic pentameter, calm.
Her rise and fall, a wave of soothing sea.
A therapy. A troubled spirit’s balm.
The sonnet seems to whisper, not to shriek.
No heart has she for bias or outrage.
Her soul is surely humble, yielding, meek.
A lady, moving gracefully through age.
When strolling wood, I hear her hollowed call.
While contemplating God, she sometimes sighs.
Perceptible in mid-west farmland’s sprawl.
She’s many means to draw and mesmerize.
Each time she calls, I gladly sit with her.
I stroke each word, and listen for her purr.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
pictured words 
Yes indeed – Great photo too!
Thank you David!
moving piece! simply gorgeous.
Thank you, Janet.
Whoops. Contemplating.
Those last two lines are perfect. I like reading sonnets, but attempting one is like contmplaing a climb of Mount Everest. Combining thoughts with the rom is overwhelming.
Thank you Sheryl. The way you feel about sonnets matches how I feel about the sestina. 😉