Bird shooting Season

Bird shooting season the men

make marriages with their guns

My father’s house turns macho

as from far the hunters gather

All night long the contentless women

stir their brews: hot coffee

chocolata, cerassie

wrap pone and tie-leaf

for tomorrows’ sport. Tonight

the men drink white rum neat.

In the darkness shouldering

their packs, guns, they leave

We stand quietly on the

Doorstep shivering. Little boys

longing to grow up bird hunters too

Little girls whispering:

Fly Birds Fly

Stanza 1