The sun calms down at sundown,
Roofed under the Shea tree I lay,
Reminiscent of wild adventures,
As high above me, sit birds,
With continuous melodious tunes,
And caressing winds, lulling my eyelids,
While carrying along aromatic scents;
Hovering around my upper lip’s hair,
Teases of ‘Mwanviak’ invites the soul,
To hasten to ‘Saab’ in ancestral bowls.
Cattle abandon green grazing fields to gather,
Heading; herding themselves home together,
As I tread behind with shoulders braced of crook,
And smiling heart at the sight of thatch roofs;
Dancing smoke races tremors down the soul
Of a shepherd heeding to calls of ancient bowls.
As we herd ourselves toward ‘Kusung’,
Sight of fresh milk-pregnant old bottle,
Sparks Ululations from young voices,
And my face lights up in confusion:
To young mellifluous ululations?
Or to soul food’s invitations?
But as I take myself to ‘Dabiak’
My dry heart dances in certainty,
To smiles of brim filled ‘Chin and Cheng’,
Sitting in wait to welcome home my soul,
As I honor calls to feasts in ancestral bowls.
@Akan-mwanatechaab, 2019.