Mixed Media

I see you, Jacaranda Tree (you’re an immigrant, just like me.) On an overcast day in May, I stand under your branches gazing upwards, your flowers a profusion of purple and blue, easily obscuring the gray. Later on, your honey-toned pods sprout, and when they open to release your seeds, I see that you’ve been watching too, for your pods are more than just pods – they’re lockets with tiny images, mementos of what you’ve seen. Bridges, buildings, rabbits, kisses, mooners, women, men, and children on display make me wonder: What will your Jac Pod Galleries show once my species is gone, and who will be there to take it all in?