THE SERENDIPITOUS SONNET
A sonnet comes through serendipity:
There’s no way to foretell where it may go
With rhyme and meter’s strict exigency
As it reveals new matter row by row.
At best you have a notion as your guide
That sets you off into a Wandering Wood:
From there on it’s a wild and whirling ride
Finding a course that may be understood
And, better yet, seems destined to be found,
As if it were intended all along,
Its sense being aptly wedded to its sound,
A sonnet being in fact a “little song.”
How it comes into being is Provident:
The best of which are surely Heaven sent.