The Pond: A Sonnet
The Pond outside my bedroom window sleeps.
She rests so cradled dear, so soft secure.
In arms of Bank that sweet this morning keeps
Ahold of her and watches her, demure.
Though Pond I past have seen a rage of froth,
When Wind drew Water up to high midair.
And Storm and Cloud did circle as a moth.
And Pond did slap down on her lover fair.
But soft he stood against her raging wave.
And calm he stayed and still and knew that she,
So strong, so hot, so mad, so near the grave,
Would need him there to show her love, and be.
I watch them gently rock in perfect form,
Together once again after the storm.
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