Climate change is
Hitting our street
Urban Development
Had stripped the land of its cloak
Naked it lies in the cauldron
Of the sun.
Under this tree
Clapping its leaves
And swaying its fronds in the wind
Two old cars packed
Looking at themselves
They face each other
Like in a kiss
And I'm wondering
If there's a silent
Conversation between them.
This tree that is still young
And its fecundity just coming to fruition
I am a refugee of climate change
Under its shade
There are soft light green
Petals and fruits with volatile fragrance
And an assortment of flies
Is dancing in the wind.
The wind comes and goes
But the tree is fixed
And indifferent to the change
That had brought me
Under its shade
The cool breezes
Makes its escape from the harbour side
And two weaver birds alighted
On the paw-paw branch
Espousing the coconut tree
In the air
Perhaps this is where
The change has minimally reached
And I have made this
A refuge for the refugee!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem