In yesterday’s post, I included a lighthearted sonnet about the sonnet form. The title of that post was Playing With Words. As I continue to post more of my poetry on this blog, I think it will be quite plain that I do, indeed, play with words. It is my incurable affliction!

For this poem, I’ve taken liberty with the usual sonnet form, changing its visual aspect slightly and using an unconventional rhyming pattern. A purist might argue with me as to whether it’s a sonnet or not. I’m going to be stubborn and insist it is.

For the person who is passionate, even work can be play (as it is for me when I write).

We spent our Thanksgiving Day with one of our daughters and her family. As we were sitting at the table, I asked my grandsons (ages 8 and 6) to name some things for which they were thankful. Without even pausing for a moment to wonder what my expectation might be for an answer to the question, the older one said, “Electronics.”

That’s fervor. This straightforward answer came from a boy whose “play” is to study objects around the house and ascertain (1) how they work and (2) whether or not these objects are functioning properly. This is serious play for him. He’s learning about his world and figuring how each part fits. He is amazing, often amusing, and occasionally aggravating − and I’m not even his mother!

As my grandson ponders electronics to understand more about them, he isn’t working; he’s playing with intensity and purpose. Many boys his age don’t care a lick about electronics, but my grandson? There’s no question where his interest lies.

Though electronics doesn’t make my top-ten list, I can appreciate my grandson’s singleminded focus. Were I to require help with an electronic component, I suspect he’s the guy who would come to my aid.

I can return the favor … if ever he needs me to write a sonnet for him.