Odd Socks
a villanelle



I'm pondering the quandary of socks -
I haven't got a single matching pair.
On laundry day socks disappear in flocks.

I fear a few were pilfered by a fox -
A fetishist ensorcelled by their flair.
I'm pondering the quandary of socks.

I pace and cogitate outside the box -
Were Poirot, Holmes, and Marple made aware
On laundry day socks disappear in flocks.

I'm eager for the summer equinox -
The barefoot bliss of sand and sun-soaked air -
No pondering the quandary of socks.

I dream of preening, eighteenth-century cocks
All keening for lost stockings in despair.
On laundry days socks disappear in flocks.

Like birds and time tracked by the cuckoo clocks
They fly with secrets they don't care to share -
I'm pondering the quandary of socks.
On laundry day socks disappear in flocks.

Susan Jarvis Bryant
 
If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Susan Jarvis Bryant would be pleased to hear them