Village boy Impressions

         Goats are the most productive of animals  Growing rapidly and littering in pairs,  Triplets and even quadruplets!  And soon the house is full of goats  Braying and bleating everywhere!  If you but see them in the dry months,  You would love their shiny coats  And fine furs as they file in at dusk.  You wonder what they have been eating  Since the land is brown and bare.  But the elders of old have an adage:  “another’s hand cannot be oily enough!”  So even with the fresh green grass  Of the many rainy moons,  They are not as fair as with the dry grass  Fruits and twigs of the hot dry months.  All because they are tethered in this season,  And their food comes at the hands of us boys. 

Abelikpien! Abelikpien! Tell me, oh do tell! Where do you come from? You lie empty, dry, and desolate As many long rainless months go by Under cloudless clear skies by day And twinkling bright heavens by night. The parched harmattan blasts Leave you dry to the core And the pitiless sun roasts you Until your sands burn our feet So we wince and hurry Across your dry bed in the long months     Our fathers say you come from the 'forest' For no matter how much it rains at home, You are desolate and dry And at times with hardly a drop here You turn out in full flow Bursting at your banks. You are foaming and weltering, Chuckling and cackling downstream. And we; your worshippers, call out in glee “Hey, water has come to the river”! As we race to the hill To watch your rough waters race by   Sometimes you bring so much load Enormous trees that you uproot and carry In the mighty arms of your current Even the adults are scared