Harmattan Poem by Afolabi Boluwatife Oluwamuyiwa

Our faces were pale,
Soil frozen below the feet,
Heat was lost in the pail,
As we lay cramped up under the sheet.

The weather is cold,
We are all scared to bath,
Blankets are all sold,
As we shake on this brown earth.

The harmattan is here,
Green grasses change to rust,
All are carried like the hare,
As friendly fragrance mingle with the dust.

Now noses all clogged like a wheel,
Lips cracked like a pot,
The windows all sealed,
Under these winds we shall still hold fort.