Hunting What? Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

Patches of sienna
By a burnt ashy umber.
Who's burning air,
Igniting fire under an azure
Cerulean upper sky
Drifted to a rooted stand,

Smoke and soot filling
Daisy space, sweeping
Rayed screens?

The clouds find lighter
Color sipping sun,
Breathing out pearl.
And moonstones on snow.

Powder sprayed
To sit on rolling chiffon.

The sun spreads wings,
Flaps them, tilts them
And finds daisy space

For the glow that shoots
Them over coffee
Shrubby trees, creeping yam
Emerald and basil leaves.

(ii)

The lads in full gear
Take off, riding bicycles,
As they skip,
Raising knee and leg,
One after the other

Through the tall stems
Leaning over crawling
And jumping chunks of crops.
And lying sleeping shoots
Sprouting with round heads.

They plod through dust
Raising ground clouds
To burn browner, brighter
Than a whizzing bonfire dusk.

They grind sandy earth
Through shallow furrows

And valleys, leading them
To ride hillocks, skipping
Again, their broken tricycles
Falling tree branches
And kneeling tall stems

The only handlebars
They cannot grab, as they croak
Through bumpy undulations
Jumping with both legs like frogs.

(iii)

Until they land
On a clearing, catching sight
Of a young stag, its fur
Brightened by a flashlight
Of sun to brew

Ruby and carnelian specks,
To hurl off a brown
Coat worn by flowing air,

As if dawn is settling
Into the seat of an early gold
Morning drifting, drifting

Into a full space
Of showered sunrays
Making grasses glow,
Parakeet and musk.

And emerald, a green hue
Also clothing them
To make the lad's core green,

As they grin at each other
One of them whispering:
Let's take it home as prey,
As the other smirks,

Bawling out: We've dug
Into a mineshaft and scooped
Out far-flung island gems
On this bright-eyed animal.

O remove the knotted wire
From the leg of the blatting babe
And let it stroll back home.