Each sonnet difts in a slumber of hosts
with wings extended glide the depths of night,
all lines surrendered, untangled their ghosts.
Guided by form, accounted by texture,
a blanket, thick woven, fashioned through flight,
all placed, all aligned – thought, whim and gesture.
They play, they soar, they dip in pirouettes
never fumbling, they moor, come without fright,
encircling, danced – embodied minuets.
To feel the earth beneath your aching feet
and pace the depths of your sole’s (soul’s) perceptions
past the glaze of Time’s preordained retreats.
Cometh the dawn with merriments and
______unto swirl and line entangled
(90 + 30 + 17 = 147 | 147 + 3 ∈ )