i touch the old tree’s scaly bark,
caress the roughness of its skin,
releasing mem’ries held within
when you would meet me in the dark.
i wait for songs of doves and larks—
those melodies of longing when
i touch the old tree’s scaly bark
caress the roughness of its skin.
that night i waited in this park
hugging its trunk, a love-struck teen,
i sensed i’d lost all that had been
in new-moon blackness, not a spark
touch the old tree’s scaly bark.
Today at dVerse Poetics Gayle is challenging us to write a Rondel. The bar will open at 3:00 EST and that’s where you will find the recipe for this fun-to-write form. Don’t be afraid to give it a try–I find that working with the discipline of a form stretches the poetic muse.