Fourteen Beautiful Birds On Wings

When bakers packed twelve plus two more to claim One dozen, a sonneteer sets fourteen Sweet lines arrayed in an eight plus six frame, And the magic marvels and ever-green Remains, whist the fledglings that would well hatch Ah what gorgeous birds be! Fluttering to fly In time, together in a single batch, Or in varied formations that'd mind defy. The eight in front propose a theme so rife, Six to follow forming a counterpoint, Resolving - ah, sonnet's true leitmotif, A Volta, how poets prefer to point, Out, and last two, twain wings of a couplet, Summing up the song, what a pure nugget! ________________________________________________ Sonnets | 12.11.12 | Topic: poem, sonnet