A sonnet in early August: "the difference between images and life"

the difference between images and life


In all her views — at all her sites — each time
that she provides the glory of her sheer
existence, she is never less than prime
and fine and effortless in grace and mere
perfection, so much that we might be led
to integrate this normalcy as part
of daily life if we did share a bed
with her — and if 'twas true, would we be smart
enough to recognize our fortune? I
am sorry to believe her excellence
might become seen as commonplace if eye
and mind dissolved the awesome awestruck sense
she should at all such times engender; then
I would not be so tempted with this ken.