Sonnet in iambic pentameter about coming home |
I'm Coming Darling Nightingale What's that lonesome speck flying through the hail? Why it is me my darling nightingale; Fighting through raging gusting freezing rain, While angry wind buffets my feather mane; My steady pace no faster than a snail, I plow my way through the enraged gale; Clouds before me an infinite grey plane, No line of horizon on which to gain; The sky, an endless cold stony grey jail, But love these beating wings will never fail. Now today I am a sprinting sparrow, Flying straight and fast, an old wood arrow; The dark angry clouds have drifted away, The blue sky is just one blossoming sun ray; 'neath my wings lies the insect world below, Centipede bridges 'cross the water flow, Stadium beetles asleep as they lay, The roads, trails of happy ant cars at play; Clouds above, blankets of pretty, white snow, Forever a magnet to you I go. So I fly for you forever onward, Fighting both blizzard and balding buzzard, Heading toward the huge western mountain, I'll be with you 'fore the night is done; Even when my lonely path is blurred, My little beloved singing songbird, I'll fly on to you through the setting sun, A streaking shadow on the horizon. |