a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan “sonnets”: №147

for Twelfth Night

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 16 lines and an unorthodox rhyme-scheme is like a quartet with 5 members, though reproof is always welcome from anyone who feels so moved.

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SINCE I was but a child, I’ve watched the skies
attention rapt, I’ve marked the heavens’ face
the play of its expressions sought to trace
its cosmic moods and signs and prophesies 
and to its speech I’ve harkened with my eyes
the subtle, silent utterance of space
silent testament to rise and fall of grace
and so I needn’t tell of the surprise 
that harrowed me upon that Winter’s night
two watches still remaining till the morn
my soul was filled with wonder and fright
I’d scarce believe me but that I have sworn
on my order and on the ancient rite
that on this very day, the LORD is born 
the silent stars have broke their vows tonight
and strains triumphal echo in the heights 

Photo by Caleb Woods on Unsplash