So I had to rise before the sun,
Brushing against the morning dew,
My feet digging into earths diamond,
It’s another day ,eking life from the soil.
My feet is an artists’ canvas,
Filled with cracked lines like a sketch,
From my daily trek to the farm,
Ones I had to stop and evade a cows’ poop.
But today I am rejuvenated,
The last harvest was such a joke,
Grandmother said I had forgot the cow dug at the shed,
That I never woke early enough to evade the sun,
And so the produce paid the price,
Of my lazy sleepy head.
Granny past after the harvest season,
Perhaps she did not feed well enough,
She had to share her meal with her grandchildren,
The ten boys born to her out of wedlock,
they wore tattered shorts held in place with sisal ropes.
Yester night I dreamt, grandma smiled,
If you know her, grandma is not liberal with emotions,
They make a person weak shed say,
So she’d stone her wrinkled brows,
And look like a curved wood.
Her smile promised a happy day,
So I woke to tend the farm with vigor,
Followed by the boys left by granny,
Under my care and warm struggle,
To feed, clothe and educate.
So all of us have to farm today,
Work hard and get school fees,
The landowner promised an instant pay,
If we completed the farm by evening,
The prospect of money to feed was exciting,
Even the stomach could feel the mood,
It kept rumbling like thunder,
In hope of a healthy feed.