The Tapping Glass

(Poetry) A Shakespearean Sonnet

Photo by Annie Hendrix

Although this modern life has its demands,

my hands remain unoccupied today.

Yet here I lie inside the tapping glass,

as yearning woodland beckons in the rain.

I ought to get outside and run around,

cool weather passes just as it’s begun.

It’s summer almost ten months in this town,

and I can’t take a beating from the sun.

I often hike the trails nearby my home

and worry with routine I may get bored,

but buried in the loose alluvium

along the river’s edge is hidden gold.

Tuck in the sheet and smooth it on the bed,

I can lay and rot there when I’m dead!

Thanks for reading!