The light has dawned upon her waking thoughts
As she goes through the woods at jogger’s pace
Unravelling a mind tied up in knots
As cold meets warm, the shining of her face

And here, amidst the beautiful seclusion
She sees a sonnet in which she’s dispersed:
Pentameter, in all of its confusion
Iambic, in that she is never first

The forest road’s a type of daily journey
To represent how much has come and gone;
To give herself the power of attorney
To live a new life with each waking dawn

And celebrate the spirit there within
That will not stop for things that might have been