Ghazal, Beaded with Rain

This entry is part 6 of 47 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Summer 2012

Forms and strictures, rules. Fill in the blanks, shade in the bubbles, color inside
the lines. For instance, use green for this picture of a lizard beaded with rain.

Dry and veined, presaging October: maple leaves cover one side of the porch.
Dull browns, yellows, reds— a leafy blizzard in June, unbeaded with rain.

In art class, one of the girls from Peru is blind in one eye. She’s come to America
to see the doctor wizards; and by summer’s end, a whole windshield beaded with rain.

Which chef was being interviewed on the radio this morning? A woman’s voice woke me—
she spoke of being excited by caramelized gizzards; of summer picnics beaded with rain.

Nearly unbearable heat today. And night air thicker than butter; no relief from water
or cricket sounds— But what can you expect? Not even a lizard, back beaded with rain.

Scorched earth smell, sky shimmering like the surface of a lake or a mirage. Dementor-
like, a buzzard circles overhead. Not one poetic prickle, no beaded sound of rain.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Ghazal, Between the LinesNight Heron, Ascending →

6 Comments


  1. Peg, thanks for sharing! (Would you mind fixing the spelling of my last name though on your blog post?) How cool also that you have links to that fabulous jewelry. :)

    Reply

  2. …and I love this phrase: “Dawn scene with thunder lizards.” :)

    Reply

    1. Elise really does come up with such provocative titles…

      Reply

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