Tuesday, June 6, 2017


                    The busyness of day is well begun
                    As I sit down to write at nearly nine:
                    Leaf blowers roar while hammering is done
                    On the new house three doors away; the whine
                    Of a low Cessna overhead adds yet
                    Another load of nuisance decibels,
                    And now my dog is clamoring to get
                    Outside to pee while all the hubbub swells,
                     But, ah! a sudden cease in this uproar
                      Descends and, for a blissful moment, peace
                     Prevails—though that surcease is soon cut short
                     And from this ruckus there is no release:
                          Yet in an hour this sonnet has arrived,
                           But not the sort that ever has survived.