Summer Love #2: Parting at Equinox
Sonnet #156

The equinox has come to even out
the nights and days and make them equal length.
I lie here now, as always, most devout,
but Sun, my love, you so are losing strength!

It used to be in early afternoon
we two would meet . . . your passion at its peak.
I played as if I were your small cocoon
enveloped by your heat, which now grows weak.

Oh, Sun, I miss those times your ardor surged
for hours on end. I, prostrate, took you in.
And later, close to evening, I emerged -
your monarch, tinged with scarlet for our sin.

Your vigor that I crave now dissipates.
Farewell! For your return your mistress waits!

Andrea Dietrich/AKA Sonneteer55
Pleasant Grove, Utah

A Sonnet on My Sunday Afternoon
#151

How peaceful is this Sunday afternoon.
The people in their homes seem tucked away.
With everything about me, I'm in tune
while from my big back yard I now survey
the color of Crayola sky in blue,
a backdrop for the trees Crayola green.
As clouds sit still, a white tail passes through
some cauliflower clouds, and now unseen,
it follows jet to lands that yonder lie.
A tiny butterfly alights on ground,
and on my fence a single dragonfly
has residence, content to be around.
Both sun and wind are mellow, and a bug
orange and black now gives my skin a hug.

Andrea Dietrich

After the Fog-In Praise of Dawn
Sonnet #155

At eventide, a vapor thick and cold
is creeping. Those that sleep are unaware
the world botanical it will enfold
as goddess moon hangs pouting in despair.

Effulgence of the moon cannot break through
the gloom, and in the air there is a taste
devoid of all the sweetness of spring's dew.
The view of nature seems to be erased.

Now Dawn appears; sees cheerless canvas grey.
She sets about with colored inks; resolves
to draw a sky that rivals a Monet.
Her art emerges as the fog dissolves.

The tree leaves softly chant as all around
the birds praise morning's work with joyous sound.

Sonneteer55/ Sept. 19, 2003

A Child's Summer
#146

A child needs a place where he can run
unhindered by some wooden fence or wire.
He needs a spot beneath the summer sun,
a peaceful breeze to soothe him should he tire.
He understands the time to pause in play;
to rest upon a hill and thus renew;
to study clouds that fleck the azure skyway
until they rearrange and pass from view.
A child wants to laugh and taste and see;
to hear a rushing stream; to twirl and leap;
dip naked feet in mud; hide in a tree
and greet the stars before he has to sleep.
A child sheltered from the sun's caress
grows pale and little knows of happiness.

Andrea Dietrich © 2003

A Hard Act to Follow

What greeting as I pull into my drive
this time of year when winter's trudged away!
I love to see how well my fruit trees thrive
as costumed spring arrives with her ballet.

The pear tree now grown tall stands dignified
beside a plum, and further to the right -
a plum with double trunks that once had vied;
then compromised, mixed burgundy with white!

See pear with milky puffs, unfurled florets,
and amethysts bejewel one tree of plum.
The other plum tree, arm in arm coquettes,
seems twice as charming as I homeward come.

With spring's last pirouette, my trees lose hue;
the next three acts can't match spring's rave review.

Andrea Dietrich © 2003

TRILOGY OF THE TREES
Sonnets 114-116
Strange Redempton

I stood as though reborn on mounded dirt,
which seemed so moist it strangely could assuage
the ache from bowels that howled from so much hurt.
Would ground then be my cure or a mirage?
Enticed, I deeply pressed each foot through soil
till they took root and fixed me to a spot.
My ever-thickening trunk served well to foil
the plots of those who'd cut me. . . . they could not!
My limbs, though mighty branches, could not bend;
stubbornly I fought my transplantation.
I weathered storms that God or man might send,
sightless, living long in desolation.
Self preservation did this much for me-
old loved ones passed and I remained a tree.

Andrea Dietrich

Seasons of a Fruitful Tree
Sonnet 116

I love my little corner of the yard
when nearby Lilac Bush perfumes the air.
The human dwellers treat me with regard.
They sit behind their house and simply stare.

They gaze on me while I am in the pink
and blooms on me are streaked with white and rose.
They sometimes deeply breathe my scent; I think
they like me best when I'm in fancy clothes.

In time, their small ones stay around all day
and swing from ropes strung from my strongest arm.
I'm glad to serve my young friends in their play.
But later, I bring forth my greatest charm.

My ovaries expand and overlap. . . . .
My luscious fruit gets plucked, and then I nap!

Sonneteer55, Feb. 14, 2003

Why I Weep

Named a willow tree, I live in grace,
the whole of me distinctive in its shape.
My elegance befits this verdant landscape
of hillocks flung across the field I face
as gentle rill meanders through this place.
In spring I don a long virescent cape
comprised of many supple arms that drape
to earth and with Eve's shadows interlace.

Oh, countless times Sun's flecked my every leaf
and Sky distilled her stars as night would creep.
Young lovers, though, have fled, their time so brief.
They used to spread a cloth to eat; then sleep
beneath me in my shade. They knew no grief. . .
Not privy to their destiny, I weep.

Sonneteer55/ Feb. 8, 2003

Revival Time
#130
Enrapture me, sweet radiance of beams.
As April takes her leave, I now implore
you. Fall upon me amber as in dreams
you came to me when cold was at my door.

Anoint me, oh sun with rays of gold.
With springs arrival I've been made as clean
as drifts of peaceful clouds that heavens hold;
rinsed hopeful as the earth arrayed in green.

I walk midst meadow flowers, face upturned
as warmth like honey pours onto my skin.
The mirthless months are gone! My spirit yearned
for its rebirth, so now I take you in.

My only sin- neath winter's pall I pined
with flagging faith for sacrament of sunshine.

Sonneteer55/ April 25, 2003

My Destiny
#127
I come from Sky; then melt into a stream
and leave my mountain home with winter's thaw
as childlike, I babble. Gaining steam,
I cut through valleys. Afterward, I draw
more power when the tributaries meet
to join me. . . I widen and get deep.
United with my sisters, more complete,
at times I overflow; on land I seep.
But Rain's a friend and keeps me full. I roll
now onward to my love, my destiny.
I wind and run, course set, with fervent soul
to Delta's bosom, there to greet my Sea..
What more to want as I continue south
than his consuming kiss upon my mouth!

Sonneteer55/ April 12, 2003

`One Evening in July`

Once driving home, I did defy

A deluge from the darkened sky.

The bluster lent a tinge of fright.

But God is good, and all is right.

When soon my house came into view,

Southward was cerulean blue.

And to the west an orb shone bright.

Oh, God is good, and all is right.

Voluminous the sun did rest

Upon a mountain gleaming lest

I look away; miss more delight!

But God is good, and all is right.

For where the azure sky met gray,

A rainbow over my house lay.

With peaks to east it did unite.

Oh, God is good, and all is right.

This finite sight I need to store

Inside my mind; when troubles pour,

I'll think on it. And so I write

My God is good, and all is right.

Day of the Last Serenade
Sonnet 119

A lakelet of serenity am I,
nestled here among the fragrant pines;
reflecting the cerulean of sky
till Sun behind the distant peak reclines.

Now humming bugs crepuscular emerge
to greet the twilight's creeping. Next a fawn
does soundlessly appear upon my verge.
A lapping in the stillness. . . then she's gone.

Dawn arrives. I'm longing to be painted
once again by Sun the color azure.
Jubilant that I remain untainted,
I croon to nature, rippling my rapture.

Strange creatures interrupt my peace. . . I cease.
And lo! They've sapling legs but squawk like geese.

Sonneteer55/ March 1, 2003

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