[Fred_Gallagher_Disclaimer]Fred: DO NOT take this as a reproach of any kind, but merely as a... a meditation. I saw an opening in the first line of this sonnet, and I ran with it: the things we do for Art...[/Fred_Gallagher_Disclaimer]

M.T. Downtime Sonnet: "Like, what a bummer hath thy absence been" after Sonnet 97: "How like a winter hath my absence been"

"Like, what a bummer hath thy absence been,"
Say'th I, and quaff my tepid New Year's beer:
What Fred-Art hath I missed, what rants not seen,
What exchanges with my forum buddies dear?
The year gone by prov'd M.T.'s critical mass:
More folks, more jokes, the start of "Volume One,"
And poems, and art, and all that's come to pass
Should make Fred proud, to see that which he's done.
Yet these abundant joys, it seems to me,
Hath o'erwhelm'd poor Rodney's studly box;
It fails, despite its better memory,
Despite all hacks, despite all overclocks.
I'll try again, between stout draughts of beer,
To get logged on, and gain the evening's cheer.

(apologies to William "Wild Bill" Shakespeare)

Sonnet 97: "How like a winter hath my absence been"

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

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