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By
Jackals come into my backyard,
Coal blazes,
Chicken cleaned, waits,
Marinade of spices, a red coat.
Dusk enters the garden,
Awakens small beetles,
Dark, glittering wings they have,
Drawn to the light or aroma?
Grandpa brings the grill,
Embers stretch flame fingers
To snatch the first bite
Of the delicacy.
Smoke wraps the thin mist in grey,
Mind is covered in a layer of perturbation.
Jackals move under the bush,
They watch, eyes golden,
Restless, hungry, they fidget,
Fire snaps bones on the grill.
Tough are those who make it,
A mind undisturbed when jackals howl,
Thoughts toss and turn,
Chicken on the test by fire.
Victories follow trials and tribulations,
Chicken is done!
Some fumes linger.
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