Buluma In The Morning
As day begins, the Artist renders dawn,
Bringing daylight to shade as twilight yields.
With swift hand, he captures the spectral light,
To paint a misted veil upon the morn.
How still he paints that pearled morning air,
That drapes his dawn of apricot and pink.
By deft brushwork he portrays the mangroves,
With warm and fragrant breaths of air respiring.
His art evokes the scent of village fires,
Curling wood smoke I taste upon my lips,
The ship's steel, cool and damp beneath my hands,
The rust-flecked decks made wet by morning's dew.
His labour brings the clearer hues of day,
To paint a looming sky that threatens rain.
A boat wreathed in smoke putters from the shore,
Towing mahogany, that glistens bronze.
Naked sailors swim about the giant trees,
To bind their girth with cargo slings for loading.
The hatchmen make ready the derricks’ hooks,
And hoist the logs, cascading from the sea.
But gilded bronze in the ageing timber's marks,
Makes me a witness, wise to his treasure's theft.
The Artist's day had dawned in perfect bliss,
Yet now I stand complicit, defiled by this day’s deed.
With swift hand, he captures the spectral light,
To paint a misted veil upon the morn.
How still he paints that pearled morning air,
That drapes his dawn of apricot and pink.
By deft brushwork he portrays the mangroves,
With warm and fragrant breaths of air respiring.
His art evokes the scent of village fires,
Curling wood smoke I taste upon my lips,
The ship's steel, cool and damp beneath my hands,
The rust-flecked decks made wet by morning's dew.
His labour brings the clearer hues of day,
To paint a looming sky that threatens rain.
A boat wreathed in smoke putters from the shore,
Towing mahogany, that glistens bronze.
Naked sailors swim about the giant trees,
To bind their girth with cargo slings for loading.
The hatchmen make ready the derricks’ hooks,
And hoist the logs, cascading from the sea.
But gilded bronze in the ageing timber's marks,
Makes me a witness, wise to his treasure's theft.
The Artist's day had dawned in perfect bliss,
Yet now I stand complicit, defiled by this day’s deed.
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