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The Scales of Missed Direction
I face my foe, we stand with boots astride
The floating log, as water ebbs with tide.
With glints of sunlight in our eyes, we share
What measure of respect lies in a stare,
And then the balance shifts the log aside.
So now we dance in nimble footed pride,
Cavorting as a syncopated pair,
We run at odds, as even as we dare.
The log does bob and spin, yet we abide
And run at frenzied pace with greatest care,
The other fellow's dance steps as our guide.
Until I fake a reverse tread, a snare
That snags the other's ankles! Now outspun,
And with despairing splash, my foe's undone!
The floating log, as water ebbs with tide.
With glints of sunlight in our eyes, we share
What measure of respect lies in a stare,
And then the balance shifts the log aside.
So now we dance in nimble footed pride,
Cavorting as a syncopated pair,
We run at odds, as even as we dare.
The log does bob and spin, yet we abide
And run at frenzied pace with greatest care,
The other fellow's dance steps as our guide.
Until I fake a reverse tread, a snare
That snags the other's ankles! Now outspun,
And with despairing splash, my foe's undone!
So a log rolling contest? I like this description of it. I'm only familiar with the most straightforward form of sonnet, so I don't know if this is also an official one, with the switch-up in rhyme scheme in the second stanza. A couple of spots where the meter is a little forced, but nothing egregious, and structurally it overall works. A nice bit of fun.