BONUS SONNET: Wet And Grey, A Perfect Day

A grey sky makes me love the landscape more;
The greens and browns of it stand out so well
Against the steely dome above. Before,
A clear sky held me firm under its spell,
My eyes turned up and lost in all that blue,
The lazy drift of clouds holding my gaze.
With that distraction gone, I turn down to
The Earth around me, taking in the plays
Of heightened color. Then, too, there's the scent
Of misty rain, and of the moistened soil
And vegetation. This is what I'm meant
To know today, which nothing now can spoil.
A drizzly morning's bike commute lays down
A tone for my day: bliss in which to drown.

BONUS BONUS SONNET: The Bitch-Goddess Slaps Me Still

Her sister Dawn gives me the finger soon

And still I sit awake at my laptop.

I had some laughs, and heard a brand-new tune

(To me at least), but this has got to stop!

I didn't want to take a frakkin pill,

Not on my Saturday, that seemed so lame.

This maybe was a poor time for my will

To be so strong, but what else can I blame?

Insomnia has slapped me all night long;

I have the red face and the bleary eyes

To prove that point. Of course, I may be wrong.

That bitch-goddess did not fire up the 'net.

I did that on my own. That's what I get.

Rude Awakenings Won't Be This Rude Much Longer

Some morning's it's worthwhile to try and sleep,
E'en though the workday beckons 'crost the hours,
E'en though the melatonin's failed to keep
The sleeper down to recoup all her powers.
But she was wide awake at 1 A.M.,
Awakened by her border collie's moans,
From drinking of the kitchen's "rain" again,
Her need to go as subtle as her groans.
The predawn chill, the parking lot, the ice,
Th'insistent pulling toward the pooping grounds,
All act in concert to exact a price,
Along with all the gloomy predawn sounds,
To fill my head with wishes for a yard
And make my try at more sleep rather hard.