Bush Fire

Who will put the fire out
When it finally burns?

The time is known
At the end of each passing season.

Young bulls, come out
To set a fire, as they await

The harvest of the gods
While earth wrappers burn.

Time passes, and moments
Linger on the stumbling walls.

The little town becomes a city. These days,
Young bulls put out cold with the

Blankets. Dirty blankets.
Laundresses and mothers can not

Keep their clothes clean.
Who will keep my clothing

Clean, who will hunt the rats
When they come out of their holes?

The bush around my hut is burning
And my garden flowers are steaming

From the heat of the season.
I am stone-cold.

By David Ogana

Biography:

David is obsessed with Poetry and the Arts. He is currently an undergraduate of Plant Science and Biotechnology, studying with Nasarawa State University, Keffi. He has been Published in online magazines and journals.