The GWAWDODYN (gwow-dahd-in) is a Welsh poetry form. The name is about as awkward as a flamingo wearing a kilt, but the rules made it sound like a limerick in disguise. It is not. Each quatrain contains two rhymes; the A rhyme occurs at the ends of lines 1, 2, and 4, and the B rhyme is all in line 3, at the end and embedded somewhere (anywhere!) in the middle. The strict syllabic requirement (9-9-10-9) defies the use of triads, which keeps the lines from waltzing along the way a limerick does. A morning spent attempting to hammer it into my preconceived mold led to nothing but frustration. Grouchily, I tossed it aside.
At noontime, as I lifted a ripening avocado off the counter, the first
line came to me. Avocados, as you know, are the crown jewels of the produce department and I buy one every week regardless of the price. When it blackens a bit and yields to a gentle press, I pile some Garden of Eatin’ blue corn tortilla chips on a plate and turn that bad boy into the most sublime lunch known to (wo)man:
Avocado, soft beneath my thumb
mashed with lime and salt you shall become
a heavenly dip for earth’s corniest chips
Guacamole, to you, I succumb
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