Ngwatilo

is Jacaranda trees in bloom  blissfully blue, bold, edging toward lavender gladness. When the rain falls, as we hope, the flowers fall. It is not tragic, stomping on them on Kenyatta Ave delicately and joyfully– we hope the ritual will make us  blissful while blue, even decidedly bold.  

Teacups Eleven years old and accustomed to seeing the Jacaranda trees carpet the hill-side with their lavender flowers, loving them even when they wilted and returned to dirt; I still hoped Dad would put colored lights on the twenty foot cypress tree outside at Christmas, utterly disregarding its browning diseased needles and his fragility, to [...]

I used to have a friend with whom I used to write poems; well, ok, I continue to have a friend, conversations with whom the stuff of poems would emerge. …

To play, write me a note, and end with your invocation, and we’ll both go and make a poem about it, and both post here.