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.