Ghazal: Attempt Eight

the tumble weeds blow across the desert plain, a procession
of snowflakes falling softly on the rugged mountainside.

darting into the blue sky swiftly the bluejay takes flight
into the network of hollowed caverns, echoing into the silence.

constricting nets draw tight the catch of the day.
just a little bit more depth in the margins, says the painter.

the poet washes the dishes and then folds the laundry.
the television blinks into the night, long after being turned off.

mystery bleeds its pathos across a trail of vanished paths.
piercing cries debate nocturnal dominance, then a hush.

a puff of smoke on the horizon suggests a hint of warning.
the tsunami smiles with vicious glee before its final approach.

the nursery rhyme in plaintive voice warms the father's heart
as his child closes her eyes in the evening's last refrain.

6 April 2007 by Glen Alan Woods