Cold air with bones made of dust
From the North
Where the baked land is heaped and soft
And its people, darkened
Reduced in mass
By the absence of water
Wicked by the sun
To feed parched sky
Scoured by the glass laden wind

Streams of air
Abrasive emulsions
Wear away mountainous clouds
Which fed by the moisture
From waterlogged lives
Hold floating rivers
In air
Where mangrove coasts
Abutt acacia plains

Particles in the translucent air
Scatter the light
Settle on clothes
Inducing winter, layering earth
Which turns into mud
Staining threadbare clothes and men
Still moist from the rain
That was recently present
To lessen the sting of ubiquitous heat
Now departed
Into palm oil skies











Photo by Artin Bakhan on Unsplash