How Sweetly Sings The Sages Poem by Eric Mwenda

How sweetly sweet
sings the sages,
of a coming sun
that beats the night,
of dew soothed grass
such as a morning step
can't stunt,
and fragrances of waking flowers

How sweetly sweet
they sing-
the sages
that a longing desire is quenched
when lids open
to birds on window sill
on morning praise,
or waking noses
to brewing coffee

O how sweetly sings the sages
And i,
a non partisan,
who doesnt live in them,
How creased my face be
when lute of sages play

let them sweetly sing
But tomorrow-
is a camouflaged painting
I dont wanna see