I ran into the goddess of the hunt
the other night while working on my papers
She came around to ask about my capers
I spilled my guts to her like an informant
We fell in at our normal meeting place
we weren't alone, but I could see no others
Her attitude was soft as downy feathers
My eyes were blinkless, fixed upon her face
We dialogued, but only for a moment
she had to go resume her occupation
and I returned to mine in vacillation
of whether to pursue, our chat to foment
But I could think of nothing more to talk of
so solemnly I sat and watched her walk off
Sonnet #6 is copyright © 1995 John Perry. Any rebroadcast or
republication is prohibited without my expressed written consent.
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