Pleas to My Patron Self So Devout

A sonnet refurbished, composed when young

Photo by Robert Couse-Baker. (link)

The two of us, ‘neath the drop scene of wood,
Screened backstage in the theater of Fall,
On a prop cloak of leaves, knowing we could
Forgo more rehearsal to Nature’s call.
Feel the fake trees clapping limbs around us.
Hear the woodwinds, spiriting Salvation.
My words, like thread, can sew a readjust;
Our costumes, cut from dual…