Voice Of A Curlew Poem by Rafik Romdhani

Peganum Harmala, closest, knows best
About his cry tearing siestal time of rest
When birds andbeesin calythos shade
clung to life with verve, never feel afraid

Recurringsounds fused carry an outcry
Startling tiredarms still wantingto redie
Like a wheat grain in the womb of stubble
Down under straws to start again its battle

With the soil, with gleaners' sighs 'n scythes
With the Voice of A Curlew that never dies
But always harbinger of new peerless vigor
To the nature of Nature that is hard to figure

His feet of summer sun color walk up slopes
Smelling of love and on love only to pin hopes