Basking, one sunny day
At the peopled Hyde Park
Without warning the day
The ferocious rain sacked
The sun. We huddled beneath a shed
Being the only ebony lacquered skinned
I lowered low my nappy haired head
Picked a lone feather for my ear’s need
Shaped to fit my ear, I rolled and rolled
To a sensation sweet and unnamed
Done, I opened my eyes whole
Having had my ear-itch tamed
Assorted eyes with strange scrutiny
Sought an answer to that simple deed
To them, it was magic, an African mystery
“Aye, Aye, t’was black magic indeed!”
That rain stopped as though on a cue,
The shy sun suddenly came into view
“See, it was African magic
‘Tis safe, not at all tragic!”
(c)2017 Warigon

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