Village boy Impressions

Take a walk in the Savannah, Listen to the song of birds and trees, See the wonders of the land: The harmony of rocks, and grass,  And the awe of ants and anthills. Feast your eyes on  castles of clay Built with patient labour and craft Plastered by seasonal rainstorms, Baked to artistic perfection By daily scorching suns, and Frequent blazing bushfires.   Inspiring folk are the Savannah ants Going up and down all day In silent, profound labour Tunnelling, firming, raising walls Until the fort stands majestic. Even when we cut it down, As we are wont to do  They build it right back up Without a sound of protest or grumble   Go to the ant, you sluggard! Learn the dignity of labour, See the marvels wrought by Little hands and little heads. Stand in awe of Savannah anthills. Listen to the sermonizing of ants; "Turn your hands from idleness and bloodshed, Your heads from evil machinations and mischief, And your mouths from idle chatter a

The crops never thrive in untendered fields Neither the millet nor the cowpea Can stand the wild tares Nor the parched nor the cloggy field.  But even on God's loamy earth,  Much must be spent to make  The maize and the sorghum bloom.  Much must be given,  For much to be harvested; All have to be weeded and seeded Some have to be watched and watered And many others mulched and manured,  Least they wither and die.  There is no joy for the sluggard.  It is a world of labour From farm to fork.  Could it be we weren't planted deep enough,  Or we neglected to nurture the shoot?  What might have been a bumper field Is become a parched land For nothing untendered can prosper.  Yet we sowed wildly and sparingly: And some seeds fell among the rocks And died unappreciated and unpraised.  Many more fell among the thorns And were pierced with divergent cares.  Still others by the road side fell And the mouths that eat salt and pepper  Have devoured those; Spreading their poo across the glo