Burkina Faso
by Margaret Harms
Red dust on my sandals
Dust in my eyes
Heat, hot days, sun every day
Bicycles, motorcycles, pedestrians
Le Baobob green taxis, donkey carts,
Busses and transport, trucks
The old and the new
Hot sun, heat, red soil.
Warm days, warm Burkinabé hearts
Welcoming smiles, warm handshakes
Children’s brown faces beaming
Faces express awe and trepidation,
“I touched a white woman’s hand.”
Her mother smiles approval.
Warmth everywhere.
The market is teeming,
Old people, babies, all ages between
Faces hopeful as they tend their wares
The sun beating down
Shaded only by woven thatched shelters.
Intoxicating smells of fresh produce
Bright colors, red, green, orange, and yellow.
Walls and walls of cloth
Bold patterns and colorful designs,
The tailor awaits.
The African village sleeps
The stunning star-studded night sky
Hovers over sun-dried brick huts,
Mothers and children safe inside.
The shee-p, goats, pigs, and cattle rest.
Under her wings,
A mother hen shelters her baby chicks.
Far away in Burkina Faso
God is watching!
