The Song of Winter

Spenserian Sonnet

Right where I stand behind the window glass;
looking to see leaves of autumn tumble
and skip around and between yellow grass,
I observe summer’s golden hues now crumbled;
like abandoned dreams, forgotten, muffled
voices on the other side of silence,
and I try hard to resolve the jumble
of muted words, words! Sounds without brilliance
echoing a distant and corrupt cadence,
and rhymes so weak and faint, no more belong
with me, where I live inside the silence,
where music fades; lips mime a garbled song,
and I hope to steal one last glimpse of spring
but summer’s spent; fall gives to winter’s sting.

Carmen Ruggero © 2004