We danced that day as two who knew the mist.
As evening cooled the meadow drew the mist.
Orion shyly peeked above the ridge.
Cygnus, spread your wings, pursue the mist!
Each evening the red foxes roam the valley.
Like them, there was a time you knew the mist.
One night the moon came up, unrolled its rays.
A screeching raptor woke and slew the mist.
I called your name, called loud a thousand times!
A katydid responded through the mist.
Far-off, the owls tu-whit tu-whoo the mist.
They infiltrate my mind. I rue the mist.
The songbirds have all gone, the leaves have dried.
Only bats that dimly view the mist.
The breeze picked up across the distant hills.
None can remove the breath from you, the mist.
I watched a flock of martins heading south.
Then, clean away, a blizzard blew the mist.
by Martin J. Elster, first published in Lucid Rhythms.
Editor’s Note: The use of mist as a repetitive device in this ghazal emphasizes the emotional yearning of the narrator. The clever use of the bird in the second to last line to meet the ghazal’s name requirement is delightful.
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