Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #154
The Ice Is Thin
by Belinda Roddie
The ice is thin, and puddles slosh around
my boots as I trek up the steep mountain,
observing how the frost has turned to mush
and glaciers have shrunk drastically. I can
no longer feel the summer on my face,
but still, the heat is ling'ring from my hike,
the sweat rolling from my brow in large beads
and soaking my jacket. I draw a map
in the sad dirt to detail my journey,
emphasizing the recession of chill
so early in the year. They say I should
retain hope, but it's getting difficult
to cling to it. Will my grandchildren know
what it's like to frolic in fields of snow?
by Belinda Roddie
The ice is thin, and puddles slosh around
my boots as I trek up the steep mountain,
observing how the frost has turned to mush
and glaciers have shrunk drastically. I can
no longer feel the summer on my face,
but still, the heat is ling'ring from my hike,
the sweat rolling from my brow in large beads
and soaking my jacket. I draw a map
in the sad dirt to detail my journey,
emphasizing the recession of chill
so early in the year. They say I should
retain hope, but it's getting difficult
to cling to it. Will my grandchildren know
what it's like to frolic in fields of snow?
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