THE HARMATTAN

To the end of the year becomes portent
Us chasing o'er the butter from shea
So conscious of lips and skin
Mindful of cracks and breaks
In search of cover clothes as of place of snow
Able covering all body skin
And all wait in patience
It sounds ominous


Come witness its treatment
All falling to its mercy
And drops of blood from noses
Coming to all so effusive
Cannot question its dominion
And so, all succumb to its despotic dominance


Farmers go smile
Time is due
See trees shedding
Making way for fresh green
There could be smiles after all