Serenade
The colors shift red to blue, clouds form this evening;
it's in the bones - likely it will storm this evening.
Like damp laundry, humid air hangs on all of us;
even fans can't save us, it's so warm this evening.
Verandas, open porches may give some relief,
but the bugs revel - mosquitoes swarm this evening.
With distant rumble, lightning flashes cloud-to-cloud;
our cold drinks sweat, waiting to transform this evening.
And I, the sly guitarist, neatly tune my strings.
Damn the heat, my love - I will perform this evening.
1 comment:
Very nice ghazal!
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