Like guards exchanging duty in 'Okpoto' kingdom
They converge here and there
From dawn till dusk they resume in our midst
Rendering unwanted services to us
When we lay for the night
Like warriors, through holes, patches and roof tops they emerge
Dancing and singing in high pitch sounds across our peaceful ears
Just like the "Umuada dance" in our new yam festival
With a clap, we thank them
A clap of worry and of frowned face
When the celebration is over
They settle to man our skin for the great feast
And at their closure, they take home our red milk
Just to fill a dry pot belly
Our tax at each visit
At dawn again
Another set sets in continuation of the celebration
Hoping in circles
Wanting what we want
Greeting us with a perch and a parade
In response, we give a wave
Which means to them, "carry on"
They are part of life
And we are alive
We give them pain and death
In turn what do we get?
Some piece of sickness!
@Vinedepoet ✍🏻