The sheeting nimbus, redolent of rain,
And crowns of cumulus turned fiery rose
Beneath the wispy cirrus entertain-
Illuminated structures that compose
A sunset of confusion, all ablaze,
With altocumulus in fluffy grids
And cirrostratus fading into haze-
The sort of thing Occam’s Razor forbids.
And yet the sky and I are of one mind
Too many wonders live beneath the sun
To be to dull sequential tasks confined;
So bring on everything at once for fun!
So I progress through wonders that abound
Buoyed by hope that I won’t run aground.
When one is pounded by a hurricane
Awaiting the arrival of the eye
While buffeted by wind and soaked by rain,
Enduring for the promised calm nearby,
It’s quite dismaying when that longed-for peace
Fails to arrive and callously implodes,
An unexpected hurricane’s surcease
Chaotic, savage thunderstorm forebodes.
But weather cannot be controlled by yearning,
So batten hatches down as best you can.
It’s really more annoying than concerning
To make impromptu changes to your plan.
So keep a weather eye and don’t despair-
Somebody’s likely laughing hard somewhere.
As families dependent on a member
Whose work, at any time, may call them in,
Regardless of the time and day remember
It’s not the date; it’s what’s observed therein.
An anniversary may see delay
Until it can be nicely celebrated
And any gift, regardless of the day,
Will be enjoyed and much anticipated.
Observances are simply that: observed
At times in which they’re deemed to be convenient.
Provided that the spirit is preserved,
Do not condemn the letter, but be lenient.
I celebrate three hundred sonnets done,
Observing it in sonnet three-oh-one.
When naps are insufficient to restore
One’s equipoise and sordid things enthrall,
And each contentious point makes one’s pride sore-
The calendar illuminates it all.
When copious caffeine gives one the shakes,
From snide remarks it’s harder to abstain,
And twaddle seems to have the highest stakes-
The calendar endeavors to explain:
Daily routines obscure the passing time
And pharmaceuticals can regulate
Sans deference to nature, and so I’m
Oblivious until I see the date.
And once I’ve clarified my skewed perception,
I celebrate another misconception.
“Ask: it shall be granted unto you,”
Is something I was told when I was small.
Internalized through song, I therefore knew
That wanting was sufficient wherewithal.
I quickly learned that it was perilous
To yearn when perspicacity is lacking,
As those who listened could be querulous
And wear when one anticipated tacking.
Philosophers would argue without blinking
Such bargaining’s a formal fallacy
Or an example of magical thinking,
And yet my simple heart cannot agree.
When need turns into money in the bank,
It’s lovely to have multitudes to thank.
The sitzprobe for the first time let us hear
The contribution we choristers make
And how in scenes of drama we appear
To underscore precisely what’s at stake.
Tonight’s invited dress, our first time through
Without a pause and for a friendly crowd,
Plunged us into the darkness without view,
But we with great perspective were endowed-
For though there was new music to be sung
That we’d scant opportunity to learn
It slid into its place when bells were rung-
We did our part to help make Paris burn.
Our faith has been repaid, for now we know
That we are part of one hell of a show.
Today, I tried to see if I was able
To write a sonnet in a new location,
Specifically, our humble kitchen table
Upon which we enjoy games and gustation.
One might not think that space has an effect
On whether one can do cerebral work,
But here desire and habit intersect,
And it’s enough to make one go berserk-
For in my my deep blue bedroom or the bus
Aural and visual cues bring focused calm.
But here distractions will demand of us
Attention, and ignoring them’s no balm.
Success is but a Pyrrhic victory
That proves me great at mediocrity.
My seven year old self would be amazed
To know adult me met C-3PO,
Sat at at his feet appearing pleased but dazed,
And then sang backup for him in a show.
Obsessive teen-me, Disney superfan,
Would envy adult me as she disports
While Alan Menken gives notes on a plan
To add new choral songs to Stephen Schwartz.
To see my youthful yearnings grow and bloom,
Some decades later, makes me rather thrilled-
It makes me certain I should not presume
To guess which current dreams may be fulfilled.
Tonight, I need no hindsight to attest
That Libbys past and present are impressed.
Four ravens sat upon a branch’s vee
Attempting to usurp the prime position,
All croaking in four part polyphony
As if rehearsing for a crow audition
In which their size conferred no special edge,
Requiring the quartet to hone the skill
That might just help their common dream to fledge-
But feuds for fame are always fought uphill.
As I admired their robes of shining black
That whispered as if made from finest silk,
My close attention took them all aback,
Appropriately distrustful of my ilk.
If they retain their native-born suspicion,
Their music will outlive their competition.
From barren soil a tender tendril sprouted-
To coax it into blooming I did yearn.
What sort it was; I never thought about it-
The plant’s survival was my chief concern.
When one leaf-swaddled bud began to swell,
My joy unfurled, and in those ardent throes,
I hoped my wishes blossoms would compel,
And -finally!- appeared a large pink rose.
Pink roses? Those clichés of trite romance?
That’s what my careful tending has produced?
No fragrant lily gave my plot a glance-
Nor fragile orchid my designs seduce.
Yet roses grew where I carefully tended
Who is to say that isn’t what’s impended?