The crock crowed
on our mats we turned
from sleepy dreams we rose
baskets on our heads
dawn paths we followed
As we walked
the sun prodded the earth
with first tiny gold fingers
lighting up the day
Father’s cutlass flashed
a path from the untamed green
another thud of his hoe
mounds shape the landscape
in steps we follow
hands dipped in the mounds
left seeds in its warmth
The bite of the sun
mid stride in the sky
father’s glistening spine
stops the slide of sweat
we munch between the rest
last season’s harvest of sweat
The winds cools our cheeks
the sun goes home to bed
we make our way home and sing
happy from today’s sweat
The fireflies by the fire
the sun’s mistress silvers
our rosy cheeks with silver
even as mother’s tales
by moonlight
lights the path to a peaceful slumber.
Again, the simple beauty of your words astounds me.
ReplyDeleteThanks Keith, your support and constant support encourages me and makes me want to do more.
ReplyDeletebiola
Enchanting. I love it.
ReplyDeleteI am an MWC member. That's how I found your blog.