Harmattan is coming yesterday.

It touches my skin with rapt attention

Tasting and cracking it into a million pieces like brown clay.

The black blizzard whistles loudly and rifles through everything-

carrying the skirts of school girls high above like coloured tulips above their heads, leaving schoolboys snickering in devilish glee.

kissing with fondness the lips of peoplefolk-

Who taste the desert on the back of their lungs-

like sweetened sandpaper

blackman mouth turn white, peel and break

My days are spent shaking like dry leaf cocooned by cold evenings which break into misty mornings.

Combing through the dry air as pale as ghosts

A milky haze settles as a heavy bosomed maami

until the fields become dry with dew.

The white sun dances forlornly in the sky

and the moon sleeps alone.

The only souls I pass on the street is dry dust

and the rivers moan of thirst-

waters to quench their dusty tide.

~Homa~