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Hearth of Winds

From west to east you plumb axisal spin,

And darted on the limbs of the poles.

On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes.

Just above the horizon of age, you journeyed,

Beckoning the threshold of syllabubic windfalls.

Sated with doldrums of lambent haul,

And the pomp of sycamore hover instill.

When you call again at the Isle of trench,

The oracles of time shall tune again the aviary.

Seated upon the pillion of days the carter roves,

Tilting in all directions with hopes of succour.

A long way from time indeed you are,

But as the tides of valour surmise you triumph.

Once I saw an array of humanic acclaims,

In a manger of Sylphic heath of tenderness.

The hills of tonic travails titivating the hold,

And all the flakes of materialism dancing attune the vista.

The tales of deeds will forever entail polemic puzzles,

And the spate of the weaver’s loom shall reckon amidst.

 

Adeola Yusuf Amuni

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