The Feather Sonnet 171 Life is a feather, light enough for drifts -- Fast when the wind is fast, and slow when slow The wind does move; yet other times, it lifts Life to a high, then pressing 'gain to a low. Thus the waves of life with their each wavelength Adjust to whimsies of the changing weather, Too humble to withstand the weather's strength. When windless does the weather go, the feather Does lose its existence beneath the surface Of fragility, as the flights of glee Or gloom, prolonged or short, in the embrace Of Time do get absorb'd no fuss, completely, Bidding the Earth a meek but scornful goodbye. What else does life to sapiens signify? ©️ N P Samal
The Return Sonnet 170 Infants do crawl and toddle about their home, Happy with unobstructed play with toys, But they at last return to mom's bosom, For they do find in there unblemish'd joys. They later romp as children out in streams And meads, but home where they return for flowering, And youths in career do they rest their dreams, Back from willfulness and crazy wandering, Then consign them, as adults, to labor, But thus they return to raise their children, And lastly there's the nursing shed to harbor Before the old on them does pull the curtain. Whoever we may be, we will return; This's certain, this is fast once we are born. ©️ N P Samal