Took out several more poetry books from the library and was unexpectedly enchanted reading Michale Ondaatje's The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife.
That's all for now, am taking a break from poetry for a few days. Indigestion.
Am indulging instead in prose with Isaac Bashevis Singer, The Moskat Family. I last read him forty years ago, before any writing courses and understanding of psychology. It's a different story now. Very enjoyable.
I am supposed to write a haiku this week.
Also discovered that to entitle something Ode to... is over the top, over emphatic. Too late. Am pleased with the sonnet, nevertheless. Only six more weeks of the online course and I shall feel less pressured.