Sonnet I: ¡D.C., Sno Más!
The flakes of death descended from on high,
a rushéd panic to the nearest Giant.
Metro halted; the planes, they would not fly;
the region to the snow was quickly pliant.
In our homes we bundled up our dears;
We watched the power, both outside and in.
A gasp, a catch of breath; oh, escapéd fears!
On the plows and Pepco hopes were pinned.
The flakes died down, but buried deep we were,
unyielding snowbanks stopping up our streets.
And then, another blizzard, death comes sure!
The federal government succumbs to winter’s feats.
O woe, the binding hand of the snowpocalypse!
Our dreams for calm are once again eclipsed!
©2010, Sonnet87.com
Welcome to the introductory sonnet by Sonnet 87. No, no one searched for “snowpocalypse sonnet,” but I thought it apt given what D.C. is experiencing. Fun to write? Yes. A masterpiece? Oh, my no! But at least I sat my butt down to write it!
Snow mas, perhaps.
But mas sonnets on this blog, I hope!