Sonnet on a Quiet Morning

by Henrietta Franks

Time shakes, and shudders to a standstill

In the early hours. The sun dials in

Upon an empty world, greeted by nothing but breezy air.

Radiator heat holds no flame to the burning leaves outside,

Scattered bonfires upon a frozen earth. It will be hours before people

Tread this ground, rushing past stone and steeple

As if the clock will run out. But for now,

Paths stop being vehicles for destination but passages

For roaming, free from social damages.

The electric buzz subsides,

And the world becomes a place. 

But the best things are fleeting,

Human feet begin their beating

And time begins again.

ST.ART does not own the rights to any images used in this article.