Here’s the poem I worked on last week. It’s just 8 lines–technically an octave–so it may be an incomplete sonnet. (Sonnets are one octave, followed by a sestet to make a total of 14 lines.)
I can’t decide if this one has more to say or not. Amy says it’s done. At the risk of writing poetry by committee, what do you think?
Riding the Wind Before Pentecost
Commuters jump pacific-sized
puddles on thin wings and jet props,
cocking their knees against the cabin’s
steel curve. Sail boats below carve white
scars in the blue, working the wind we fight.
Peter (three) can’t walk on water yet.
He grabs the arm rest, flashes a tooth-
gritted grimace and feels each fall.
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