The Harmattan

In the morning before tea
With natures best company,
Trees, shrubs and rodents
The warm air sifts about
Like the whistling Nightingale
Singing to the red Rose

Now, the doors of the tent
Must be opened for the airs
Which comes with dried lips
Which the kids lick all day
Faces crack, voices deepen more
Young, old, rich, poor,
The Harmattan bullies all
Pushing our clothes up the sky
Throwing dust and sand into our eyes
And all the while grinning,
Laughing at embarrassed faces

If you could listen, attentively
The Pines sing of it
With the strange looking Porcupine
Dancing to the melodic tune
The winds of the Harmattan
Shoves around the corner
Minding not both beast and man
Bringing dews in the morning
And dusts in the evenings
Even, the nights become cold

The heart wrenching shriek of the Wolf
From afar, at the back of the towns hills
The green snakes which lives
In the farms behind the house
The birds scaling the wind
Up the ever blue skies
The sweat and grunts of the man
Pounding the yam in the hamlets
But all knows,
The Harmattan bullies all
Not minding beast or man