a “sonnet”: clad in russet mantle of the morning

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.

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YONDER over those eastern hills so fair
clad in russet mantle of the morning
now rising through the sacrificial air
and all the land with golden light adorning
from his fire-fretted chamber bursts the Sun,
sets forth, and before long, yea very soon
coursing westward on his diurnal run
he’ll be united with the crescent Moon—
the Moon, his silver consort robed in clouds
that stream from her like wisps of trailing lace
and sometimes hide her like a bridal shroud
and conceal from sight her soft-glowing face
and gently wrap about her comely head
till among a field of stars, now newly wed
the two recline and make their nuptial bed