I give you my first sonnet of the year
because I write it to you. Consider
Giacomo da Lentini, creator
of the very first. He wrote it for her
in the thirteenth century: soft urgings
for his scornful muse to stop, reject pride
and accept his verse. That’s not you. I sing
of your eyes and smile because they sing, glide
through me like lyrics of sacred hymns, ring
even more holy because of words I
hear you share. I sing because the meaning
of sonnet is song. Watching, I wonder
if you sense your humor’s charm, or ponder
who sees your gentle presence as splendor.
Roger Armbrust
January 1, 2012
