Rooster's Call

What can I say other than that I’m bound, bound by the rooster’s call. A clarion call of divine arrangement, calling me to duty and so with my water gourd well balanced on my head, I make my way to the river. The leaves dripping water from dew of the night before, annoying flies perching on my nostrils as if they are caves to seek warmth. Happy faces, happy voices, happy people going to and fro with their water gourds well balanced on their heads sharing dreams of night before and plans of the ahead. My water gourd clutched to my ribs protecting them from morning cold. I look around to see the best spot to fetch from as gourds clutter and water swishing and splashing, mud everywhere. The trees bowing in obeisance to the river which keeps pulling away with royal dignity, not to be touched by the green leaves. Oh proud crystal river! The trees bearing green leaves adorned with yellow, burgundy and purple flowers only want to show gratitude for your support! There it was Looking at me My favourite spot October 7th, 2013