A different Sonnet
Sunlight from early morn and not
Far from here the Azores a cyclone
Lashes onto shores and makes the island
Taller and more meagre
Stealing top- soil near the coast and
The rocks tremble, will it not end.
I sit in the winter sun tanning old leather
And not a straw moves in the stillness
I drove down to my little Savannah stopped
And walked a bit and I tell no lie when I tell
You I saw a pride of lions in the tall grass
And a crocodile was eating a deer that had
Come to drink in the ditch.
Time matters here once the plain was a sea
Slow changes we can`t see because we do
Not live long enough, so let me enjoy this
Moment look idly at drifting clouds
Before my savannah turns into a sea again.