I’ve dated many others,
more than anyone can wonder;
wearing them like Agbada
fabricated from locally-made Ankara
girdled to a willing waist
by the aid of lent wrists,
thru the grab of clenched fists.
I’m deserts-far away, but
closer than a blood-brother;
with the rise of December
from the slumber of November,
I travel beyond western borders,
stretching thru Asia and Africa
with the borrowed arms got
from brothers of the Atlantic,
my whispers graces the Pacific,
melting the icebergs of the Arctic.
I’m forever young,
but older than the late Methuselah,
and the dative years of earth.
You’ll someday die; but for so long
will I live, offering magical breath
to pale-looking unripe fruits.
When I offer my warm kiss,
no one dares to hiss;
Cos I’m that jealous lover
romantically tearing the lips
of pretentious laughers,
and cracking the firm grips
of fragile hands of ceramic tumblers.
When I’m freed from season’s prison,
mortals tremble out of reason
that I teach “the cold-water lesson”.
But am I a curse or a blessing?
‘Gainst me, they stock their arsenals
with armours of jackets and warmers;
and with the shield of ‘oleum jelly,
They come to my battle field.
Listen, I come in perfect peace
to cure the maladies
of your putrid, smelly, swollen stomachs
adored by blood-sucking fleas.
I come to end the years of drought,
and usher-in a new-year of many more.
I’m that august visitor
needy of no formal introduction;
my name is Harmattan,
and I’ve come to hammer your town.
An ode to a season when the North-east Atlantic trade wind come with her usual goody-bags of: torn lips, ripe fruits, dusty lands, wealth dryness and health wellness.
Nature is rich!!!
University of Benin, Nigeria.