Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Move in November (a sonnet)

Some things repeat, while others stay the same.
I cull my household goods for something clear.
Each time I move, I'm slightly off my game,
Not knowing what to toss and what is dear.

So why this angst when none is really due?
I growl, spit and claw; I’ve lost my way.
Look here now in this crack, it’s something true!
Life’s residue builds up, and we go gray.

Ten boxes, readied, taped-up on the floor;
My cat, now furtive, paces back and forth!
Hollow sounds now as I shut the door;
Why do we judge our time in life as

Then how to sum it up in one brief line:
The mind accepts, but feelings undermine.

October 29.2010 (revised)


Kaye said...

I feel your angst.

Caroline Gill said...

Thank you for this, Kay. So poignant. The 'gray' especially has a double-entendre for me.

Incidentally, thank you, too, so much for your kind words on my seal piece.

Anonymous said...

I like the revision immensely. lora

Seattle, WA

Anonymous said...

Lovely poem, yes, very poignant, and gray certainly has several meanings...