With Ricky’s Permission
Rising early on a night without lights is like waking up in a factory.
Generators at full throttle
Coughing out fumes
And spoiling the ancient calm of dawn
The dawn of prayer
The dawn of plans
The dawn of quiet meditation
The dawn of cock crows.
In its place you have bleary eyed dizzy cocks crowing themselves hoarse
In bed you lay unsure how many “Hail Marys” you have said
The din drowning out your brain
Alas you give up and recite the “Glory be to the Father”.
Still laying, you plan , in futility, your day, so you give up
Moving about your home is a test in navigation and recollection.
Amnesia of old comes back with a vengeance
Then as if on cue a united blast of cock crows.Still no competition for the puttering generators.
Next, a chorus of baby protestations from across the estate and with that the vexed murmurings of mothers snatched from spasms of morning sleep.
Barking instructions to the young
Dragging them half awake
Checking the results of their lackluster dental hygiene exercise
Frustrated by crumpled uniforms, missing shoe laces,evasive combs and uncooperative bag zippers.
The madness of the urban morning!
Copyright © Kasise Ricky Peprah