Writing sonnets for my beloved
But I cannot speak in pentameters
The lines & sentiment lost on my tongue
Erasing the stray marks upon the parameters
Mother Nature is exhausted
Discovering it’s time to hibernate
Humble beauty of the landscape
Folding into herself unto the infinite
Hearing the last strains of Autumn
But the air is still hot
Clinging to a customary belief
While we hide behind a fig leaf
But we all know leaves fall and rot
Captain Q 