Sonnet of Loss
Pruning the holly, I stop a while as
Rain moves in from the Cairngorms. Thunder purrs;
The coneflowers will bloom by Michaelmas,
Lightning bolts, tear at the sky like claws;
Ray brings me calamine tea, with jasmine;
He’s good that way, knows what I want and need;
They say love wears no garments, such as time;
That it simply is… which sounds right, to me.
The gate by the pear tree will need painting;
Perhaps we’ll use purple? For mystery;
I love the rain, but it leaves me wanting;
Not for the sun, I taste her memory,
Nor for the moon and all lovers un-kissed;
But for something unspoken, something missed.