Blithe humour yearns for
Pridian vagaries before now,
Trusting the mooring of able
Ships on clear waters of
Mirror images.
Wistful, our call on the sere
Tongue of harmattan, when
Pines whistled in unison to
Welcome straying and returning
Birds – black confetti over
New York and Chicago –
To lose dusks of charred skies,
Beneath the hairy navel of the
Equator.
In their chatter, they mused:
‘Between New York and Chicago,
Two handsome cities, which is taller? ’
Congenial seasons of the 1970s
Sloughed from the skin of the ‘60s –
An ecdysis of coalescence, yielding
Soulful tunes that rebuilt the
Sledgehammered walls of the soul
Just this once,
This once, when the gloaming of these
Warm seasons reflects on the barns of
Sylph-inhabited lower skies.