Today, I took a dear friend out to eat
To celebrate his birthday, and we drank
To health and love and spouses. Thus replete
With good opinions, in our chairs we sank,

Each falling into quiet contemplation.
I marveled how four hundred fifty years
Had compounded his worldwide reputation,
Yet here we were, enjoying quips and beers.

I wished I could articulate a fraction
Of how his words drew me from solitude,
Soliloquies of limitless attraction,
And verses that my writer’s soul renewed.

I thanked him; he accepted thanks with levity.
His wit is frequently the soul of brevity.

Happy 450th birthday to William Shakespeare, one of the great men without whom this sonnet project wouldn’t exist. And he wrote some nice plays as well.