July Full Moon Sonnet
Sing, Lady Moon, of soil turned to dust,
and St. John’s Wort flowered and harvested.
Black raspberry bushes produce their best;
Trout and small-mouth bass are daily tested.
Tall grasses put on khaki over green;
tanager and barn swallow go hunting.
Garden stands leafy with squash, corn and bean;
woods hear calls from vireo and bunting.
Yet summer thunder wracks storm-shredded sky.
Larval pods cling to leaves of witch hazel,
and mourning dove heaves her slow, plaintive cry.
Chickadee ponders summer’s great puzzle:
All victory now belongs to Lord Sun
yet harvest waits till his decline’s begun.