The Breath Of Woods Poem by Haruna Garba

Promised fair bath of sunlight
the stem urges the branches to fly the leaves
Promised clouds and rainfall
the stem urges the branches to fly the leaves
And when wind turns avalanche or tornado
the leaves become the miserable lots
But then what is the wind
except what the wood makes
Wood is wood and coal itself wood
It is that hot breath of woods
that gathers itself in to the wind
but then what is the wind
except what the wood makes
Wood is fuel and so is oil
yet it is wood that is burnt
to give rise to strong wind
which eventually rocks the wood silly
We are the woods
and those interested in wind, burn the wood
to grow that which will sway the twigs
for alone that which is good for the wind
is good for the trees