The sun has disappeared
behind the tree of another year
the moon's yellowing disc
has danced to the brink of a new dawn
Egrets wing the heavens
with the teasing rapture
of journeying angels
deathless time-tellers
spying the shortening year
from the roof of the aluminum sky
One more Winkle in the oblong face of time
one more inch off the dimple
of its elusive cheek
leaves have begun the thirsty retreat
to the back of the tree's head
the grass is dead now
awaiting the brittle birth
Waves plant roaring foams
on the hinges of the sea's lips
sand caress the water's underbelly
cradling corals in the ocean's ageless belly
a gull rockets into the skies
bequeathing a grey feather
to the water's flightless face
The baobab of the marketplace has added
the fatness of another year
It's fruits farther still
from our kwashiorkor hands
ribs have snapped reaching out
for the fringes of pendulous branches
Yes, I fell the year's ageing
in the harmattan fingers
through these derelict holes
in the rags of my unrememberance
the year which one was
the king of the wardrobe
and now a wrapper
for an upstart garment
Let us plant new vows
in the compost of old breaches
so the coming year does not die
of the hunger of former days
Let us like the snake rise resplendent
from the death of an old skin
divested of its killing sting
©Above
A