Sonnet: Sustained Objections Poem by Richard St. Clair

I’ve seen few days that felt sublime like this
Late winter afternoon before the sol-
stice, clarity of cobalt blue, the skies
Now sweetened by a nimbus wash of all-
embracing grace, an aura of a kind
That I can reach for, almost touch and feel
As if a hand stretched back to bend my mind.

The ambience distracts me from the fury
Of old voices out of order, quid
pro quo debating like a hostile jury,
Heckling me for what I never did.

And though the quarrels vanish by and by,
They leave a bitter pall across my sky.