I know the rule is that I have to post 14 sonnets in the month of November, for a very loose definition of ‘sonnet’. It’s now the 1st of December, but this sonnet offers its own justification.
Sonnet 14:Time and motion
Fourteen sonnets in November,
a poem every second day.
But here we are, it’s turned December,
Sydney’s in a summer way
and I’ve failed to meet my quota,
arrived a day late, missed the boat. Uh,
wait a sec! There’s wiggle room,
an argument against my doom.
November’s numbered days are thirty,
but that odd mid-Pacific line
meant I had only twenty-nine.
And I can claim, not playing dirty,
my first was done in New York. Quite!
In New York now it’s nine last night.