ANOTHER DAWN
ANOTHER DAWN The cock crows As the cold of the night melts A wise son whispers his prayers Ere the twitter of weavers On the trees in the frontage. The busy of our mothers' brooms And the rhythm of cutlasses On the whetstone in the yard Stirs the sluggard, their clamor And beef and anger. On grasses the dew vanish Giving way to the dust Raised by troops of little children With calabashes and decorated guards On their way to the singing stream. The yellow flowers of okra Shone with brilliant smiles As the luster of the rising sun Affirms yet another dawn Another dawn of endeavors.