Harmattan reminds me of Katsina-
A tired land breathing through gruff pathways.
Stuffed nostrils wheezing,
airspace huffing, puffing,
panting all day long.
It is the season of pale days and cracked lips,
and we harbor hope that the old faces
on new campaign bills,
or God, or the new year
will bear the weights
that bent our bones all year long.
December meets us in this hazy place.
The sun is riding down the time.
And dust is stirred by feet too tired to care
which way the wind blows.
Femi Ayo-Tubosun is a Nigerian writer and poet. He is on a journey to write as well as he possibly can. When bored, he takes long furtive walks and listens to folk songs. You can find his works at https://femiayoblog.wordpress.com