ghazal ("black dots")

The writers wear berets   and go their different ways
the waiters bearing trays   all flow their different ways

some come in trams & buses   some ride on bikes & scooters
of course there's cars & walkers   some row their different ways

some greet you with affection   some more or less ignore you
some practice suave rejection   they show their different ways

the wise who look serenely   on all human behavior
discern the inner motive   who know their different ways

bamboo is always stately   the willow bends with languor
the vine's distraught & loving   these grow their different ways

when Raphael departs from   this world & all its hubbub
black dots across the valley   will crow their different ways



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[I consider this merely a playful exercise -- not quite a serious poem. It's anyway an experiment with possibilities of writing with cadence.]