Not Standing Still by Niyi Osundare

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I grew weary of the tyranny of water

and spat in the sea

I grew wary of the power of the sun

and lit candles at noon

A juicy rodent ran across

my morning path

I aimed my water-pot

at its teasing head

the quarry mocked

the potsherds of my lust

but it didn’t go

without a dripping tail

Not standing still

is the beginning of battle

he will never pluck the fruit

whose back caresses the earth

The circle which has a beginning

also has an end

a little patience is what it needs

the stammerer will call

his father’s name.