cracked crooked lips
shelter sharp tongues
sealed silent a jiffy
while fine dust rains in all cracks
in miserable mystique hearts
especially so up north
where only one wet season
impoverishes my brethren
where sizzling rises with the sun
and beds with them in the open
harmattan whirlwinds the farmlands
disperses embers of twigs abroad
sets ablaze barns, storks, habitats
helter-skelters game endangered
while hawks and vultures perch by
or could it be on rumination
that this harmattan’s blistering
bind us in a cord of warmth?
sociable instead of withdrawing?
a time for outdoor moonlight dance?
yet parted heel on mother
earth heal no foot
while west winds whistle by
into abysmal abyss
to await another harmattan