Day 4

Urrgh. I can't believe I'm sharing this with the world. An attempt late at night to write a Petrarchan sonnet. My ideas kept drifting away, like dandelion fluff, when I really wanted them to drift like a snowbank. That image stuck with me, but I wasn't able to do anything with it that didn't make me feel like I was channeling my inner 7th grader.

Random thoughts begin to drift
like driven snow, not ships at sea;
dense, compact, laden with debris.
Now it is time to sort and sift,
let practice go, clean habit out, begin to lift
significant from frivolity
Knowing there is no renascent guarantee,
For from certain habits I will not shift.

Strive and struggle to make a change,
Internal bargaining, a give and take.
Discipline and order from the arbitrary

So today I find time to rearrange,
See the contradictions of the individual flake
Adjust lifes patterns and accept the contrary