Birds, were plenty..
Now bars plainly plenty..
Innocent streams of
water,
Ran across the tiny marram roads,
In each and every deep valley,
As boys and girls looked for jambula,
Playing hide and seek, wabula!
…And wild jackfruits alongside monkeys
All in nature’s unison of calmness..
Local herbalists filled up the valley,
Picking this and that,
To spur up their concoctions,
In bits and pieces,
Like God’s Bits of Wood
Before the space was less woody..
What a sullen mood…
The night dancers of Naalya,
Now command the streets,
Some clobbering, some cornered,
Some dancing
some danced,
Along, like disparate mosquitoes,
Mosquitoes that survive,
On innocent blood
Of the people of Naalya valley,
Like Kafiti, the village wag..
