The Undedicated Sonnet

I sat the stump alone crying, crying, The wooden remnant dead of sanguine axe; I clawed at eyes aggrieved drying, drying, My freshly streaming tears like flowing wax. I clenched my fists as though hiding, hiding, A secret borne of love and hateful spite; But the leaves lay dead and gliding, gliding On winds that … Continue reading The Undedicated Sonnet