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Sonnet One: On Water

written by: FM Tate

 

Down slate and glass and brickwork falls the rain.
Smudges, erases by turn, sooty streaks.
Ever changing the window lintels’ stain.
Ever inciting cracks to turn to leaks.
Twirling birch leaves, miniature mastless ships
kiss the surface of the small shady pond.
Into dark water, flawless diamond drips
falling from bark and thorn, unfurling frond.
The tide mark rises in the old bird bath.
Come daylight and the dusty bathing queue
Briefly stains with splashes the green stone path
and knocks from unwarmed buds, small beads of dew
As morning basks in steady rising heat,
evaporation; wash, rinse and repeat

FM Tate

FM Tate

I write because the words give me no choice. I write novels about vampires and micro-fiction about anything too slow to avoid being nailed to a page.
FM Tate

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