(The poetic form selected for this month is the ghazal.)
Restlessness takes hold because I know not the heart.
I steal a look, a glance, a sigh. No! Not the heart!
Birds take flight from swampy fens up to angry clouds.
They circle in a gyre and cry: Know not the heart!
Mrs Housewife takes off the outer cabbage leaves
And puts aside the rest for pie. No! Not the heart!
The cornfield shakes light of gold in the setting sun.
Hills shudder silver rays and die. Know not the heart!
Trees deeper in the forest grow strong together.
Spindly plants on outer edge vie. No! Not the heart!
The secrets of all life stun us into wonder;
But Bruce, who ever asks the why, knows not his heart.