LAZY BREEZES 2

Odomankoma breathes gently against my skin;
I can afford a smile.
I hear the birds gossip.
The spotless sky, a sculpted cloud, a loud riddle-
The sun has fallen into my backyard.

I got this tongue from Obibini
I learnt this song from Agbenoxevi,
The ever-young song bird of the market place:

‘It is only the man who sits under the tree, who knows the intensity of the breeze-
Life is hard but there is hope in the flatulence of the bee.’


The young are teachers of the old.
So mother hen knows the juiciest worms.
The tired birds are lured into the embrace of the evening sky
But they will only find rest on the arms of Agbeti.

Ask Anaanu the spider, the crafty one who lives at the diagonal junctions:
Who sees farther, the swift hare or the slow tortoise?


I yearn for the dew to soak my heat
The toads to drown my ears
I will lie on my back and wait—
The moon and stars will soon be here.

LAZY BREEZES 1

The webs of life are spun on the looms of Oboadee,
The all and ever-seeing one who sits above the sun.

The silver arrows of rain are held in His cloudy quiver
And released with crafty precision.

He makes the sun to dim brightly and flaunt its radiant cheeks,
And when the clouds can’t hold the overflow,
They pour His tears of love on us.

The melodies of the breezes are composed in the compound of the dawn
And blown on the whistles of the day.

If you wonder why the sun is loud today,
The night just delivered the new moon.

Let the winds breeze through and renew the gossips of yesterday-
The stones will stand the test of truth.