a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets” (29)

Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. Also, I should acknowledge that the formal aspect of this “Petrarchan sonnet” is liberally conceived so it’s unnecessary to alert me that at “Petrarchan sonnet” with 23 lines is like a quartet with 7 members, though criticism and rebuke is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.

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NOW the Earth completes her exhalation
on the heels of an inflection and repose
now comes her cosmic outbreath to a close
and she begins her inhalation
as Nature takes in hand this inspiration
and shows it forth as everything that grows
to chant a liturgy of seasons that she knows
by heart, and sings in colors of elation
each member of this chorus knows its station
and lends its voice withal in highs and lows
weaving poetic verses from atomic prose
lifeless letter changed to revelation
in natural, mundane transfiguration
of frenzied alchemy before the snows
descend and the North Wind blows
consuming colors as oblation
the blood of Summer devoured by cold
sacrificed on the altar of the year
this drama in a myriad forms is told
its living icons fade and reappear
to tell this Gospel, neither young nor old,
proclaimed for anyone with ears to hear
and a mind that’s light and a heart that’s clear

Photo by Léonard Cotte on Unsplash