Sonnet

I can see my son.
The light of my eyes.
It does always sink, the sun.
Soon it will be dark, it sighs.

It is the depth of the night.
That comes the worst depression.
Nothing at all then is right.
Then everything is open to question.

But the sun will rise.
And morning will come.
Death will come and we will arise.
Speech will return to the dumb.

Love can be companionably silent.
All can be contained in the moment.

Haiku

Sight will still return
The blind will see again soon
But maybe not here