Third Ave

The sun rising
Over my cornmeal porridge
On mornings that smell of mornings,
While the shadow of Waurika hill
Runs towards my table.
Barbie doves cooing,
For the suns affection,
And the sweet
Smell of the earth,
That rises towards,
And becomes,
The taste in the Julie mango’s.
Chickens chasing feed,
Cats meowing,
Wash pots boiling,
Coal man coming,
Fi-sh, Fi-sh, Fi-sh,
The bicycle wheels wail,
Just after purity
Has left a fresh bun trail,
And we gently hold,
The warm
Feelings that come with a smile.

About the author

Calvin CKerr