Pembury Tavern, a sonnet

The vernal equinox, a presence on the floor,
As through the glass the noonday sun shines bright,
A brand of stout I have not drunk before,
An almost empty tavern meets my sight.
Never did sun more beautifully light
A wooden table, to enhance my mood.
At sixty-six I come in here to write,
As lately has become my habitude.
What shall I make of what I have accrued
Of life experience? What is there left of life?
And wondering on all that has ensued
Including all the love and all the strife,
And mindful that I be not self-deceived,
I meditate what yet may be achieved.

JSM 20th March 2015

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