At dusk we met online,
our link a chain of poems each week;
the idea to empty essentials one after another
like a word association game.
From all around the globe we sat,
hands on keyboards, pencils near-
a moment in time, a union in cyberspace;
our dear operator a yellow rose with a patient heart.
The time approached,
we sat prepared to shoot off words in unison.
A sudden rain with sporadic drops from everywhere
each thread a trace of chaos,
a recipe for ADD/ADHD,
a race to keep up,
a bond with poets on the fence of laughter
as spontaneous as the raindrops, the words,
the camaraderie on a Friday night when poets joined to play.
Prompt inspiration: The Sunday Whirl #71-
dusk, link, trace, empty, essentials, rose,
pencils, fence, chain, recipe, forgiven, operator