The skies clear fast,
then clouds follow,
The wind howls,
The sun sets, helter and skelter,
children ran to their homes,
Girls are slowly returning home, bundles of wood,
carefully tied round their heads,
The cow moos,sheep hurriedly stroll back to their pen,
its dark again, in the nyakiambi village, as the norm,
the dim light at the end of the thick forest shyly glitter,
Mr.Kamau’s lit home, electricity only reached to his gate, thanks to his Sons who now live in the states
The political leaders promised electrical connection, its now been 5years,the citizens will be voting again
the ripple of the tributaries can be heard draining to the large water source, Geta
The flapping birds flying back to their nests.
The aroma of cooking ugali is evident
the roasted maize awaiting consumption,and boiling tea as is the culture,
Its night again, mama hurriedly ensuring everyone dusts off their dusty feet,
And children pulling out their warm sweaters to shelter the cold away,
Its not a before grandpa snorts away to mountainous ugali,beckoning the blankets nearby.
Into the dark, the small Nyakiamabi village its i its pin drop silence,just before the first cock crows.