SONNET 40

Cradle what’s left of me now in your arms

The night is too full of ghosts and dreams

And I have no weapons to bring; no charms

To wrestle against my foe, the past, who schemes

To plot the course of all my weathervanes;

Those roosters point their combs to yesterday

And whirl madly there while I go insane

You are that one lovely place where I go

To make the nightmares vanish in the wind

And when the past threatens to lay me low

I know the place to find your light again

And safely nestled in your arms, I find

The past has faded from my troubled mind

07/16/2003