Erica’s Sonnet




Though it has seemed that the world is but strange,
though it has seemed the world, at times,
is nought but a whorl of ripping change,
there has been sense, and there will be sense: chimes
that ring like light through evening-falling trees,
that ring for more than the fact of our going,
that ring instead for a life; and one who sees
with eyes full wide and you full knowing.
Such a one I wish for you, my child, and peace
that falls like softest night, through late-lit leaves
of tall and sturdy, over-arching trees,
and gathers, gently, quietly, under eaves.
       Oh, such a one I wish for you, and peace
       that falls like softest night through gentle trees.




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