We talk about the way the sun descends
Behind the clouds that slip between the sky
And ocean; even though the sunlight sends
A ribbon of its color by and by
To edge the waves and paint between the lines
In hues of dandelion, straw and cream,
We wonder whether heaven's own designs
Intended something else: perhaps a dream
With lights resembling silk draped over glass
Containing flakes of gold, a lens through which
The sun unfolds a tapestry of brass
And bronze. Would paradise's cloths enrich
The cast-offs left behind when daylight ends?
And if they would, what cloud would make amends?
2 comments:
Having noticed that the latest string of sonnets have been excessively dense and complex, I set out to write one without adverbs, adjectives, or difficult words. The goal was almost achieved - I am pretty sure "by and by" is an adverb, and cheats like "hues of dandelion" are just a way to avoid saying things like "dandelion hues." I think it's much simplified in any case, and of a similar quality to some of what has come before, so I'm going to put this one in the win column and move on to day forty-six.
It does have a delicious sense of being less complex and more readily ingested and comprehensible.
Taking a beautiful sunset on the Pacific for the musing adds the romance for the ensuing contemplation, tracing the vanishing, ruling light with its court of clouds.
The imagery conveys the vista delightfully, adding an exquisite touch somehow by "silk draped over glass, cream, lens...." Very lovely.
The reference to paradise and clothing the cast-offs, as well as the clouds reminds me of what God's Word says, fine linen being His saints clothing, His saints likened to clouds, as well as deceitful ministers also likened to clouds "without water". Interesting concluding query and very thought-provoking.
Wonderfully light and yet deep. I really enjoyed it.
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