Loud hoots in the estate,
Touts yelling at the top of the voices,
Calling out for passengers,
My sleep is disturbed,
Alone on the dark, staring the ceiling,
Mosquitoes buzzing in my ears,
Creating chaos between it and I,
Flying slaps I throw,
It's signs of a new day.
Birds still in their nest,
Awake they are,
Awaiting the first ray of light,
To grace it they await,
Melodiously they will sing,
Flying from every tree,
Spreading and displaying their magnificent bodies and feathers,
Looking outside the window I am,
This is a must watch scenery.
Others rise up to jog,
Some walk helter skelter,
Matching like soldiers,
Rushing to work they are,
The view of seeing passengers scrambling to a board a matatu fascinates,
On that sector even the weak 'strive to excel,'
Left behind they want not,
To hustle is every ones aim.
Some get busy,
Making their day productive,
While others hunt for jobs,
Birds weaving the nests,
Bees making honey,
Watching the nation grow day by day,
Making it better place for the next generation,
As dusk approaches the day is well spent,
Heading back home they are,
Retiring for the night they will,
After a heavy meal.
® Tales of the spitting pen 🖋 🖋