Two Sonnets -- One of Each Kind

i
There is a chance that you will throw away
A chicken bone into the garbage can;
It's possible that you'll discard today
A pair of tongs all twisted by the fan.
I wouldn't rule it out that you'll discard
An ace of diamonds, bent and torn with age.
I daresay you might find it rather hard
To keep from throwing out a bookless page.
It's not far-flung that you will fling a flower
Whose petals droop into the compost pail,
I won't exclude, within the coming hour,
Your hands' recycling of the daily mail.
All these, love, cast aside; it's only just:
But don't throw me out, if throw out you must.

ii
The heat oppresses like a tyrant's power;
The fans blow forth hot air like demagogues.
We strive to move as if we're stuck in bogs
And wish in vain for a refreshing shower.
Each overheated, sudorific hour
Makes us exhausted, prone to pant like dogs,
Or lie like lifeless, carbon-breathing logs
Hoping that soon the thunderheads will lower.
To bring us rain, coolth, and a change of pace
As welcome as a glass of lemonade,
Or even more; this tempest we can face
With gratitude, like leaf and stalk and blade,
Who know its nourishment and see its grace
And praise their God for all that He has made.