Dashed Falling Sun Poem by Felix Bongjoh

(i)

The dashed sun has been
melting off its wax
throughout the cornsilk
creeping mid-morning,
feathers of its rays
falling on cornfields.

The sun has grown
into a condor in its full
wingspan spraying
every lurking hole with deep
light sinking to fill up
corners with moonstones

everybody reaches
to pull out shells of secrets
in hidden corners
overflowing with shadows.

But the sun's orange core
hangs in its powder
amid lace afterfeathers
of a landing cormorant
in a hurricane piercing through
needles of chiffon rays.

As the cattle amble
and march down
the deepening Mbingo hill,

the sun splashes egrets
with sun's saw-edged rays
to land on their mooing
humps and horns floating

down a staggered valley
into a sinking stream singing
a song of drifting light.

(ii)

Shedding toucan and ibis
breast feathers
to fly in sun rays
and fall on shadows.

How porcelain and pearl
specks tumble down
with broad-rayed shoulders
of stretched sun,
it' rayed wingspan falling.

Spraying sparrow
and pigeon feathers off its
its bright arc
flipping out cotton specks
of frost light, as it veers
down a steep embankment.

(iii)

Air in feathers of sun
drifts down. Jumps
and cartwheels into grass fields
sprayed with ashy light
left to roll without shadow,

as the crowned sun
falls into half-sleep breaking
into pieces of crystal rays.

Until stretching out wings
from its orange sky ball,
pinching needles of rays spread
into a swan's feathers
and land in a babbling brook,
a stone swelling its back
to carry its waddling webbed feet.

How a morning eagle-eyed
sun in flashy rays
lands with the wings of a swan
floating and bicycling

through shallow waters, arms
of sun scooping out
more light to spray a sparkling flow.