What defines a ghazal is a constant longing.
Summer begins to cling, becomes quiet, slow, like longing:
In autumn the pine needles fall in droves.
Mid-fall is a fire; consumes like longing.
The crunch of winter, the acid smell of February.
Early March. Leaves freeze, trees know longing.
What’s the usual sound a leaf makes when
It hits the ground: a quick spring of longing:
Flowers and flowers drop pieces
Unintentionally. Wanting them back is longing.
What defines a ghazal is a constant, while
Seasons shape our wavering wants & longing.
A year’s length is a constant. It’s within it that we question:
“What does love look/like?” Probably like longing,
Whereas death, the other, stays obtuse,
Always pointing. This is a year’s length: love and longing.