Last evening I revisited a favourite form, the ghazal. More about the form and why I love it can be found at this post on my old blog, which includes a link to a rambling essay about ghazals.
The June Evening Light is a Lever
The June evening light is a lever bending
on the fulcrum moon as it moves the world.
We’ve learned promises are what exist
beyond reach—even the stars are closer.
This is what we count on: the moon,
restless, stirring and stirring our salt tides.
We touch each other while we can, marveling
how skin dries, wrinkles; rough-textured bark.