A Warm Breeze's Crescendo Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Two dogs barked
and growled
and yelped with the wind
striking palmate leaves.

They groaned and howled
at their shadows,

when the sun coughed
out a shower of light
to fall in stropped harpoons
and axes flattened

into stropped beams
chopping off
and cutting through
dark sketches on the ground.

They scratched off
dry fallen leaves frolicking
in the lifting wind,
growing into dodgy little birds
gyrating and shooting
into ceilings below the hot sun,

(ii)

as the dogs drawled
more growls and yelps

and climbed a stiff slope
of a dragged-out vibrating groan
until some neighbors

began to shriek and snivel
and whine - at the peak
of their fright blown out
into an accosting monster -

about what they voiced out
as dogs shaken by a dose

of rabies taking them
to a collapsing cliff of rowdy barks
soon to tear their
throats into itchy canines

ready to scoop out
a chunk of meat from any stray leg
or flipped-out pointing hand,
as the dogs paused.

(iii)

But the sun barked even louder
with sizzling slaps
in wind, whose punches
and jabs dwindled
into stroking brushes
and fondling, warm

fans and shifting palms
touching them
with stretching pokes
and bee-mouthed tickles,

until they took off
like a swoop of another headwind
into a shady corner
below another heavily leafy tree

spreading out their branches
into a baked dome,

the sun having climbed down
from another burning climax
into a smoothing warm crescendo,
from which a silence,

on which the dogs on a mat
of dry leaves yelped
with their own crescendo.