ODE TO HARMATTAN by AGBAAKIN AMIABLE JERRY
In these days when the sky is mournful.
When the atmosphere is hung in an
obligatory shroud of mist.
Red lips change to white.
Hot water becomes frozen cold.
Children suddenly develop hate for the
E’en the adults shirk their ablutionaries.
Man’s skin becomes dry and scaly and when
Golden roofs turn dusty.
Tarred roads wear sheath of rust and crust.
Like the horns of dinousaurs in a feast.
Pleasure it is to cloak in furry coverings at
And ridiculously rip them off at noons.
The sheperds whistle merrily under the
The mountains crack with your sting.
The vale and the heavens become
You blow from the north to the south.
You journey defying all odds.
Through the Sahel Savannah down to the
tropical forest you sojourn.
You loath the mildness of Atlantic.
Thou art outwitted by its craftiness.
And flee into the Sahara when it is APRIL.