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Poetry

A lover’s vision

One of my attempts at the sonnet form. As far as I’m concerned, poetry doesn’t get more perfect than the sonnet. It’s the perfect blend of displine and abandon. This poem is my imagining of a love scene that might take place inside a Van Gogh painting

Like the sun’s unfailing journey
from east to west through the azure sky:
I will come to you and you to me
and flocks of inky ravens will fly
above the stubbled fields of wheat
which sprawl to the edge of the earth.

The wind will run with child’s feet
and dissonantly sing the birth
of winter. Rusty brown loam
will perfume the air and I will be
satisfied. A pilgrim come home,
rewarded for his piety.

My dream fades, leaves mist in my eyes.
This fool’s solace never satisfies.

By Timothy Hankins

A theologian, pastor, and writer who seeks to teach and live the fullness of the ancient Christian faith. Anglican in a Wesleyan way (read: Methodist).