and when the house

 and when the house becomes too small

to breathe, the river weeps

with algae tears, and sun-

light dims to purple whispers, then is none,

I’ll surrender

to the unbroken beat;

and when the mountain makes me small

and weak, the lake’s abuzz with overwhelming won-

der, gleefully, the fields flame and sway

with magnificence that

bewilders me, I’ll melt with time,

with moments that confuse

the cause with effect; see the hurricane’s

fierce song like flowers’ rhythmic pollen tune;

remember that when life

becomes too pain-

ful, running hurts my lungs, and sitting dulls my soul, to listen

to the moon until my heart is full.

***

(Cuenca, Ecuador -- February, 2021)

This is another attempt at doing a deconstructed sonnet. I like the imagery and the idea here. Plus, there are fewer awkward-sounding lines than in "Burning Blood" (the other deconstructed sonnet I put on the blog earlier).