Sonnet for a Snowy Day

writ 09-10 February 2025

I am not a pine tree but I am cold.
Today, the snow is cov'ring them over
and they tremble in the hazy blue air.
And so I am cold watching them, writing.

Their branches do not stoop: They stand erect.
Though the sky is gushing, they remain still.
They are patient, freezing, thorny muses.
I do not think they will mind this poem.

So stoic they are, like big sunflowers.
The next day, they are capturing the sun
and they puff out their chests like good soldiers.
They stand on guard to hail the wind and frost.

Proud pine, may you continue shelt'ring us.
We are cold, and your great boughs block the wind.

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Author’s Note — This sonnet almost broke me on a tensile day. Having left another endeavour, I tried my hand at the poem above and failed to surpass the ninth line. Frustrated, I abandoned the writing for an expression published earlier this week: 9 Haiku. The following day (on which I am writing this), I finished the sonnet in mere moments. It’s alright.

I hope everyone’s winter has been peaceful and secure, despite the rampant curiosities of our age. May the Spring bring a Great Intrusion upon us.