It is a beautiful Bright day,
With air like cider and a sky so blue, you could drown in it.
The chattering of students returning from lectures,
The discussion of market women down the road,
The sound of the grinding engine in the market,
The chirping of birds outside my window,
The whoosh of a stiff-breeze raising my curtains.
There on my bed I laid unclad,
With my cuffia plugged to my ears and no music playing. I pondered,
"What else is there to life aside from living?"
Even the dead wished they were living.
No wonder shira tamir said,
"any one who thinks fallen leaves are dead, has never watched them dancing on a windy day"
-LIETTY KAMAH.
