Every June I light a candle for poetry
or in this case it’s flameless LED luminary
from Amazon. I stay up past midnight,
waiting for a fledging poetic fragment 
to emerge from my unconscious.
I’m surprised when they arrive,
not always profound or well-articulated
but nonetheless miraculously since
most wouldn’t have appeared otherwise.
In India, there’s a holiday called Holi
where everyone smears themselves 
with bright powders & drench
each other with water guns & balloons.
Caste, age & gender disappear
in a sea of color. I sit here this morning
saturated with bright hues from your poetry, 
still tipsy from their leftover dust.

* I don’t get to as many people as I used to but Lexington
Poetry Month is one of the highlights of my year. See you
next year. May you always bask in poetry dust!