THE HOOD IN NOSTALGIA (A POEM)

Abstract

The wind sings dirges of ancestral savannahs coloured in green and grey on wet bellied soil with exhausted antennae. The Hood, my former earth had a smile like the twilight yearning in desire to meet the dodging sky every night— A natural gesture wheeled by fate in a widening gyre of pure innocence. In Hood’s stead, Anyanwu, the Sunshine was before noon bearing a shower of warm beaming rays. It gave Hood’s children a push onto their knees. This push lifted their hands and legs to grab the best of the land The land they gently nurtured in God’s muse as seasonal visitors; A joyful season; an expression of exceeding luck for harvest. The Hood was a system with life where everything was moving in lines Shedding ceremonial roles, Afternoon respected the Morning Evening honoured the night. Plants fed continents with roots and primaeval fruit. Perfection stood in white robe The past with memory.