Thursday, May 13, 2021

Large Enclosure Near Dresden (Caspar David Friedrich), Sonnet #563


 









Today, the clouds, like a drawn bow,

Turn the curve of the horizon

Upside down and high becomes low

Until the setting of the sun.

Just-ending rains flooded the fields

And small rudderless sailcraft spin,

Empty of their laden yields.

Can sweet water cause such ruin?

We walk the high ground hand in hand,

Stranded on the bridge-less bank.

How will we return to our land

Before all has turned rot and rank?

A lone boatman polls upriver —

He’s seen death, this old life-giver?


My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase. Click here:

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