A Ghazal for the Rainmaker

The ancient Weather God, in his dark guise, would arise and make rain
Hittite mountain to Trojan plain, riding the thermal to make rain

Once the night was old and fear a cold hoar-frosted shard embedded
On my pillow tear after tear appeared the only way to make rain

They say fear cannot live where passion reigns unloosed, ancient Greek verb
“luo”” unleashed for peace, for fire, for joy, so divine flesh makes rain

Every shaman dreams, seeking the silky opening to other worlds
With purpose and intent to tune the blue moon and make rain

There is thunder on the hillside and a prism arcing where you are
And I, a water witch, will watch that throbbing silver sky make rain

If you go blind again and again, if roses blush, if river
Currents rush home, you have to wonder about the ways to make rain

I would argue that very few lovers knew the those cumulus
Heights where snowy stars by kisses spin then melt again to make rain

I, in my skin boat, may fear the tides, quickly lost, weep when I come
Home, but I see light on the water and bless the One who makes rain


A Ghazal for the Curtain Call

Falling into Decay