Sonnet 60 – Happy New Year, Bright Eyes

I know I’m making you crazy – I have
some Dana Carvey “Chopping Broccoli”
sonnet binge going.  Anything can move
me to start writing and, sometimes, badly.

But, when I take the time to stop and think
on those things which are precious to me, the
field of focus narrows.  My only link
between each happiness is you.  We’ll be

thinking tomorrow on how we should mold
our next twelve months, on how we’ll love and who.
I resolve to support your dreams, to hold
your needs above mine, to truly love you.

I wish you joy and peace and grace this year.
I simply hope that you can find them here.

Sonnet 59 – Annie, Chasing Gophers

You’ve never seen Annie this way, and may
wish you never had. Tail in the air, her
head, her neck and her shoulders tucked away
beneath the ground, she’s chasing a gopher.

Strange, silly beast, my Annie. Backing out
of the hole she dug, she cocks her head, perks
her ears and starts some mad bouncing about
the yard. Like a canine Tigger, she poinks

place-to-place, trying to chase her prey to
a piece of soft and shallow soil. The soul
of manic mining, her paws claw through
the earth and she dives into her new hole.

Puppy-sure, she won’t worry for the field -
she knows that some holes don’t need to be filled.

Sonnet 58 – Bound

It’s curious the control I ceded
when I first called you “Love”, when I set my
path by your star, your light.  Firmly seated
in the soul of me now, you wonder why

you’ve the power you’ve attained, and that so
effortlessly.  Where is the price, what cost
to carry?  You wield the force to damn, to
delight with a word.  How could one as lost

as I am in you wear your yoke so free
of fear?  Happily, for the yoke’s a brace
that supports both of us, binds you to me
as it binds me to you.  I chose to place

my faith in you, and my strength.  Bound, I am
more free than when I wore a lonely name.

Sonnet 57 – Arcadia

A southern woman with southern charm, a
sure talent for moving men, and the most
captivating eyes, sweet Arcadia
never meant to snare me.  But I was lost

the moment I met her.  One shared glance, one
smiling tilt of her head and I could no
longer claim my will my own.  She had won
me, made me hers just as surely as though

she’d paid my passage.  Without the power
to resist her, I set my mind to the
only course I could conceive.  I wooed her,
showed her an image of such beauty she

could only succumb.  My words were mirrors
set before her, the image seen was ours.

Sonnet 56 – New Year’s Eve With You

Everything’s so clear after a country
rain, the sky newly scrubbed of soot and smog,
the wind smelling fresh and green and healthy.
New Year’s Eve is for champagne, not egg nog,

and tonight those bright bubbles will water
your eyes and tickle your nose as I hold
you to me.  I’ll be washed by the laughter
of the same dear lady that I once told

I’d stand beside forever, if she’d have
me.  Only hours now till the clock chimes
a fresh start.  A week ago, we made love
savagely, fiercely, after Santa climbed

the chimney.  This night, while children sleep, we
will love each other slowly, eye-to-eye.

(Companion to Sonnet 34)

Sonnet 55 – New Year’s Eve Without You

God, how I miss you today. There’s a hard
wind blowing a cold rain from the south-east -
what a wretched metaphor for my heart.
I find I love her most whom I’ve loved least.

Hours away from the turning of the year,
I sit alone and wonder where you’ll be
tonight, how you’ll celebrate. My fear
is that I’ll not come to mind – not briefly,

not at all. You’ll be with him, as you should
be, as custom requires. I’ve never known
such jealousy, such lack or loss. I would
nearly rather not love you, need you, own

any piece of your heart. We should be one
when the clock strikes and a new year’s begun.

(Companion to Sonnet 35)

Sonnet 54 – Tell Me

Tell me that there is no place for us, that
we are somehow wrong. Make me believe you
could set aside your hunger, could forget
how perfectly our two souls meet, renew

us, sustain us. Tell me that your head does
not fit in the hollow of my shoulder.
Deny your eyes light for me, say shadows
shade my way. Say that, as we grow older,

you would be content to see my empty
chair by your cold hearth. Tell me that your heart
does not ache with need, does not break for me.
Say you’d be happier living apart.

Tell me these things truly and I will leave.
But I will still love you and I will grieve.

Sonnet 53 – One Perfect Word

You have no confidence in the power
of your speech.  I don’t get it.  When you speak,
I know exactly what you mean, I hear
my needs precisely met.  When I feel weak

or frail, you find strength to share with me and
words to make the sharing real.  Only one
woman has ever said “you are my man”
and caused me to believe that I could win

any height - that was you.  If I write a
phrase, a line, or a verse that rings true to
the ear, it was guided along the way
by my desire to serve you, to please you.

You are what poetry aspires to be:
one perfect word, framing love perfectly.

Sonnet 52 – Fascination

I am fascinated by the small of
your back.  You’re not surprised, of course, but you’re
not disappointed, either.  I do love
the way you are made: fine, fair flesh and pure

pleasure to the touch.  You lie quietly
on your stomach, lovely hair hiding an
equally lovely face.  Gently, I lie
on the back of your thighs while one warm hand

slides up the length of your neck, fingers now
laced in your hair.  My lips and tongue and teeth
begin to explore you, to best learn how
to make you mad and mine.  Writhing beneath

me, you free yourself and shove me roughly
back and down, then rise above me, lovely.

Sonnet 51 – I Like You

Have I told you lately that I like you?
Not “love you” – with us, that is understood.
My love for you feels boundless, always too
great, too vast to be captured with a word.

But liking you? That is something I might
manage. Your company’s a joy to me.
I sit on the front porch with you as night
falls and lightning bugs begin their dance. We

talk about our children, joke and laugh at
whatever comes to mind - it’s fun to make
you giggle. Annie competes with the cat
for your attention - you pet her and take

Gelli into your lap. I understand
their attraction – you are my dearest friend.

Sonnet 50 – Thank You

I was dismal dark before I found you,
my words shut-up and silent.  Even then
I had to love you quietly, to know
you only in secret, till one sharp pen

stroke freed you, freeing me.  Suddenly I
found my faith again and bright, clear music.
New words welled up, demanding voice and they
found it in you.  My pen’s no longer weak.

My choices are my own and I’m content
to claim them, just as I claim consequence.
I lingered too long in shadow and spent
too many years in pride and false penance.

You’re all of joy and life that I’ll ever
need or know and all of love I desire.

Sonnet 49 – Tall Boots and Blue Jeans

My lady wore tall boots and blue jeans and
not an eye that didn’t follow her as
she moved.  But she’s mine tonight – all woman,
all fire and fun and full of feral grace.

Lord  - how she shines and how I burn for her,
how I melt.  She smiles warmly, sows a sweet
promise that I long to claim.  Her laughter
is bright and sharp or low and full of heat

as the mood requires.  Later, when we’re home
and I no longer have to wait, - the jeans
and boots and frillies strewn about the room -
she comes to me and whispers “my man”, leans

into me and writhes and dances and cries.
There’s just one love reflected in her eyes.

Sonnet 48 – This Time The Russian

“Ya tseluyu tebya I ya lyublyu
tebya, vsegda…” and the phone line went dead.
That was my wake-up call. I never knew
her love again. The night before she’d called

and asked me over – “please”. Week after week
we’d grown in friendship – we talked every
day for hours so that I could learn to speak
her tongue. Any topic was fair game. She

would start with books or music or romance
and I’d have to follow – it was a great
way to learn. At her home that night her hands
and mouth taught other truths, nearly too late.

She called from the airport. Her last words were:
“I kiss you and I love you, forever.”

Sonnet 47 – A Stroll Through Our Park

One evening after twilight, we took a
stroll through our park, you on my left, your arm
slipped through mine. I taught you how in past days
a man would defend his lady from harm,

how he’d guide her behind him with his left
hand just as he drew his sword with his right.
We walked boldly along our path, your soft
hand cool beneath my own.  From light to light

we moved  - we sauntered through shadow with no
fear.  Later, your legs twined about my waist,
you pulled me to you, looked on me with so
much love that I could not speak.  I learned trust

and true protection in my lover’s eyes
that night and found redemption in her cries.

Sonnet 46 – Bath Time

Home late – again – I find the lights are off,
the kids asleep. But I hear “Carencro”
playing in the bathroom. Candles cast soft
shadows against the wall and I find you,

covered in bubbles. One long leg surfaced,
your hands trail along the limb that I so
badly burn to travel. Boo! I’ve surprised
you! You squeal and blush, then slide low, as though

to hide that fairest feast from my hunger.
Not tonight, Love. You’d think I’d never seen
such beauty. I go to my knees, linger
just a moment before I wrap you in

my arms, wet wonder that you are. Could this
ever be less than fun? Giggling, we kiss.

Sonnet 45 – Time To Time

Time to time, I find myself missing you.
I wonder where you are and if you think
of me. Do your arms ever feel as though
they can never be filled without me? Thank

God and Gaia that you loved me and that
you love me still, if absently. It’s in
the margins that we’re marked. To know just what
your hand feels like stroking my cheek; to win

a wink or your kiss; to watch you crinkle your
nose in joy – these things brand me yours alone.
I’ve felt how you love me, how the fierce fire
of you reaches out to me, calls me home.

Time to time’s more frequent than now and then.
And, time to time, I hope we’re one again.

Sonnet 44 – Fight For Her

Her parting kiss tasted just like goodbye.
Too stubborn to let it stand, I chose to
fight for her, never caring of cost. I
watched, I thought, I planned. Late at night, I drew

dark strength from jealousy and hatred. Coiled
to spring, I finally saw my love’s pain,
her fear. Unmade then and shattered, I snarled,
raged at God and all that she was mine. MINE!

Dylan Thomas be damned – if I do not
go gentle into love’s good night, the one
that I have longed for goes down instead. What
then is left for me? Nothing. I’m alone.

I’ll fight for her in quiet ways – uphold,
defend, speak life until my tongue goes cold.

Sonnet 43 – An Ending

I was her “larger than life man” – she told
me so. Now I find that I have to be
larger than love, too. Love did not grow cold,
but “can’t”. Too much to risk and too many

to be hurt - she was always more noble
than I was. And more practical. She could
count true cost where I could only hobble
toward a truth. Left to ourselves, we would

have known all of love in less than a life.
I am dark-drunk and damned - dangerous now
only to myself. I ache for her - wife
of my heart, true bride of all my days. How

can my joy be full if not filled by her?
That life is ended now. Done. Through. Over.

Sonnet 42 – I Would Have

I would have made that woman my wife and
her children my own. From the moment I
looked on her, I knew that I was less than
whole. She saw the need in me, wondered why

she should be my answer. Fidelity’s
a fragile thing – some kisses are no threat
to a marriage run cold, while wanting me
held peril that knowing others did not.

I would have made love with her - fierce, hungry,
impassioned. Then slowly, gently – eye to
eye and heart to heart. Love words whispered, the
sweet promise of us becoming one - two

souls pledged to ages but living, loving
now. I love her still; distantly, grieving.

Sonnet 41 – Things That Bring Me Joy

There are so many reasons for joy, so
much to be happy for. A partial list would
include: a strong wind, early morning snow,
cognac in my coffee (Martel is good),

and time with my kids (no particular
order there). Listening to Mark Broussard -
now that’s a gift. Homemade apple butter
spread on fresh-baked bread is its own reward.

Snuggling in a thunderstorm; watching dogs
or horses run for running’s sake; mountain
lakes and pine trees; good books; flaming Yule logs -
all perfectly lovely and all mundane.

It’s a wide world - so little’s truly new;
So little time left, so very much to do.

Sonnet 40 – Dancing With You

I extend my hand to you, a silent
invitation to come and dance with me.
No words are needed - you and I were meant
for moments like these. Moving eagerly

from the table to my arms, you flash a
smile so full of sweet promise that no man
would doubt you love just him. As I press “play”
our song resumes - so does our dance. Between

the kids’ “ew, gross” and “aw, man” I fall in
love again. Your small hand in mine, my arm
around your waist, I lean forward, begin
to sing to you. Your eyes hold me - so warm,

so deep, I find myself lost in loving
you. We kiss while the girls watch us, giggling.

Sonnet 39 – Empty

It rained hard this Christmas evening. I loved
the storm when I could spend my nights with her.
Rain and games and Irish coffee once moved
her to play me. Her wild, whiskey laughter

was throaty and warm, full of dark promise.
So brazen – my tigress, my temptress – she
slipped off her sweater, leaned back and smiled. This
woman, this wicked wonder, taunted me,

challenged me to meet her need with my own.
Soon, clothes were scattered and we found our way
through stark, hungry passion to a dance grown
true and sure, more loving than lost. This day,

though, I’m alone and she’s home for Christmas.
Hollow, angry, I fill my empty glass.