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.