Harmattan Homily

Harmattan Homily

We await the gust of the North-easterlies to smolder us,

soothing balm, our beloved  first  and  only defense

 

Our feet quiver in anticipation of your cold entry

soon-to- be cracked lips part, only to speak of your imminence

 

Alas, the wait is in vain for the leaves rustle not in dryness,

the fabled mist is not on the morning list

 

Where are you, your shiveriness? for our children play on dustless streets

chased not by mothers bearing warmer clothing; weather men wondering whether or not…..

 

If  indeed this is your season, your continued absence compels us to reason

Ponderous; the rains outside disrupts familiar order and such thoughts,  for time umpteenth!

 

 



One thought on “Harmattan Homily” by Writeman (@writeman)

  1. the length of the lines scared the hell out of me
    well-tried anyways

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