First Valentine's Since... (A Sonnet) Poem by Hugh Cobb

February skies, dead trees, brown grasses mown
no touch of sun corrupts the perfect grey
of this empty season, this emblematic day.
Full of heart's frost, wind has blown

leaves across barren fields which rest
anticipating a cold & bitter rain
which soon must fall. Farther West,
clouds loom darker. Sky's a rolling stain

of black. Front arrives at nearly the speed
of light. Drawn to this empty place
by inner darkness: this storm; my aching need
express't in blasts of wind against my face.

Since our divorce, The Cynic Cherub's slender stake
has pinned my heart fast to this cold, wet ache.

(Copyright Hugh Cobb 6/4/91)