As the village shakes off its nocturnal torpor
The first quiver of morning sunshine
Slowly unveiling itself from behind the hills
It’s rays interpenetrating every corner
Making the imprecise, precise
The imperceptible, perceptible.

A quiver of excitement runs through the villagers
The inaudible mutters are now kind of articulate
The last vestiges of their inertia are overcome
Women emerge from their huts
Yawning, stretching, waving at each other
Grinning from ear to ear as they exchange greetings
Peaceful mirth!
They pick up their vessels and head to the river.

Everyone is preparing for their activities
A brief interlude
They sit around the table for breakfast
White porridge and sweet potatoes
Just enough carbs to carry them through the day
It’s an immutable routine
Sort of their kind of quirk.

Men make their way to the shamba
Children, in groups, begin their long journey to school
The herdsmen to the fields
The women will meanwhile take care of the bomas and the mewling babies
Each with their own mettle
And just like that the day begins…


Author: laurahstar

Poetry.Deep musings.Just thoughts that might help one day

One thought on “MORNINGS.”

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