Harmattan Wind Poem by Tony Adah

The rains have gone
White bolls of cloud pain the azure sky
Grasses bloom full of seeds
And beetles romance with the flowers
Early morning the wind come
From the northern fringes laden with cold
And mist and dews that drip
Like a liquid clock.

It is cold and piercingly cold
And the wind at noon brings a floury dust
On our naked skins
In the evening and the morning
We gathered around a big fire
Kindled by the wads of wood from the meadows
It is harmattan
If we stoop too near the fire, it burned us
Still if we stay too far away
We are in the clutches of the biting cold.