The green-brown water of the bwawa still carries a wild current
Even though nets of all types are stretched across it
or plunged into it to catch a few small fishes -
bright orange-tailed pelege
Boys with buckets take its water
and a pipe takes more.
The feral dog cools itself in it as
Moorhens skulk in its tall green rushes
which dance with Iringa's breezes before
being pulled to weave and wind as thatch.
Barn swallows and white-winged widow birds
roost in what remains.
A cattle herd moves in, the water browns again.
Another fishing line is cast from
gardens of domestic plants
which flank its sides, its water used
to quench them in dry season sun.
Activity slows finally at dusk
but not before a band of naked boys takes one last swim -
a white-backed duck dives
the monitor retreats
and purple heron leaves.
From all sides, it shrinks
How long before it dries?
How long before it's quiet?
Kihesa Kilolo Bwawa still lives.
