The Season's Aged Days Are Here. Poem by Tony Adah

The rainy Season is tired
And my flagons are empty
The season's aged days are here
Cows are mowing
Pigs are grunting
The bush is wilting
All yearning for a drink.

I will take my old forelock
And shoot to the sky
Perforate its skin
And let its blood of rain come down
The rain's tiny and fragile legs
Are too weak to move
It drizzles here
And it's dry over there
Still my flagons are empty
The seasons aged days
Are here and my flagons are empty
My flagons are empty
My flagons are empty
My flagons are empty
And menopause
Has caught up with the sky.