Saturday, December 8, 2007


A rain soaked morning.

Rain soaked,

yet, a vibrancy-

a note in the air,

in bird song and water.

Like a farmer’s rain’s welcome,

so is this rain welcomed.

The air’s clean,

bird song notes pure ‘n sharp,

the cold wakes the skin,

washing away sleep's dullening,

from my worshipful eyes.

Its morning, its beautiful,

it’s a rainsoaked morning in Kampala;

and this Garden City’s drinking up,

the very nectar from the gods’ table.

©GayUganda 08 Dec. 07

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