By Tikum Mbah Azonga
The wind is blowing mildly
But the rain gods have all
And against all odds
Again reared their ugly heads
Not even the fact that Marimar is on
And that our kids are glued to the box
Or anything else, matters.
Yet, old Babila languishes quietly
He is mindful of the fall
And this season`s deadly pods
Agriculture will be the watchword for heads
Even those who steal away to Miramare for fun
But the ones who return without socks
Will regret they lost their knickers.