[Martin Rocek]

I enjoyed this one--fun, developing a one-liner into a sonnet is not easy. I like Brian's "scout" suggestion. The last line is great.

[Michael Cantor]

I have to like any sonnet that crams NPR, the Southwest and Massachusetts into fourteen lines, regardless of what it says about them (and I'm not quite sure just what it's saying - I read the "liberal media" line as a joke on the liberal writer) and, thanks, Maryann, but it's not mine. But it's growing on me. The voice stumbles around enjambments like an NPR schlub, but it's consistent and enjoyable.

[Jennifer Gordon]

...whence I stupidly forget what to say.
Taking a poignant snapshot out of life's mundane routine, the sonneteer cleverly arranges the forecast to tender a thought on reality with such a fine twist I only nod appreciatively, and then cannot think what to add.

The American Indian metaphor is played out beautifully to the finale. Kick me after that. It's a veritable beauty on the theme somehow more readily acceptable than aught others I've seen yet. I love it.

[Ann Drysdale]

Coming back through these for another look, I suddenly understood about the fleas. I think.

The immediate picture of the notional Apache is everything the prevailing culture has taught this poet to despise; dirt, infestation, misery...

And only now do I see the real beauty of the closing phrase; not what it says but what it overturns. Dusk is the dark, creeping manifestation of sunset and quiet reins are the opposite of the jingling harness accompanying the time-honoured celluloid ride into it.

God help America. And thank you, poet.