I love the night and stars and voice of birds
that through the dark can belt a song which trills
so sharp and clear it seems they sing with words.
The sound comes back to me from blackened hills.
Tree frogs clutched rough bark and they, too,
joined the serenade
of mockingbird that perched on slanted top
of house. When I came home at night, her song
was smooth and loud and other sounds would stop–
I listened–felt akin to one born free.
A June bug, with string attached to leg,
buzzed from the lilac bush.
So much has changed since carefree teenage years
but still the nature that I love calls out
in baby robin’s squeak, in raindrop tears
and rabbit ice that spews from winter sprout.
The whippoorwills now call from
distant, darkened hills.
These joys will ever be my quilt, I pray,
and blanket me with warmth each icy day.
Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols
Called a Sonakit, this form was created by Kitty Yeager, a member of
Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas. It has free verse added between the
stanzas of a Shakespearean sonnet.