I once was told to hoot
while standing on one foot

So I pulled out my old flute
and shook it in a frenzy
to clear it of all the soot

Hurry up before I shoot
barked the man in the green boots
waving a threatening finger
with a gun pointing to an open boot

I closed my eyes, to shut out all the light
with my hands gripping tight
and my whole body trembling with fright
I braced myself and blew with all my might

I heard a burst of laughter
as my heart raced faster
I raised my head like to a master
wondering at the loud pearls of cackles
like those coming from a jester

come on, lets leave this clown
smirked the leader with a frown
the dust rose up as it was blown
by the receding convoy
and I lowered my eyes to keep them down

I crawled to a nearby paddle
and peered into the deep
like one coming out of a dark hurdle

I burst out in laughter
Not too different from that of a jester
as I beheld my reflection

As black as a tar baby
with two brown eyes peeking through
what looked like slits of white milk

Oh my dear old flute
you with all your clogged soot
a song poured out of my mouth
as I danced joyfully on one foot

I pranced off into the sunset
in a cloud of black soot
ever so grateful as I blew my old flute
that when it mattered the most
it proved to be such a hoot

By Solomon W. Jagwe | © All Rights Reserved