I think an old Kikuyu man
Knew first the earth
Revolves around the sun
He stood on the ridges
Every evening
And watched the circle fall
Sometimes to the right
Sometimes to the left
Of Longonot’s highest peak.
I think he stacked stones,
A rudimentary calendar
To plot the weeks and months
From beginning to returning.
I think he knew the weather from his vantage point
As I do, two volcanoes, one, or none.
Obscured by dust or rain
Or the world washed clean
And swept by the night wind.
