Christmas

The sky beams, birds sing,

Butterflies and grass dance in

The heavenly grace.


The dark clouds are gone.

The trees now undressed can bathe

In warmth of the sun.


Bees flit between buds,

Kissing the tender lips of

Petals for nectar.


Fragrance and aromas

Waft through the harmattan haze.

It’s the season’s meet:


Where herons inspect

The hide of grazing cattle

In the fields for fleas;


Kids with bright eyes check

Every pack dad and mum bring back

For shiny new stuff.


Grace meets greed; love lust:

Like the dry season’s brightness,

God’s love shines on us.

(The verse is taken from my collection, 'Colours {of Life, Love and Faith}'.)


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