Many moons, the natural and artificial.

One tuhon, ruling the dark sky and no monsoon.

The natural light is optimum, over-shadowing the artificial, stapping’em they cry monsoon.


Early mon in the crack of dawn. The weather mild, the moon yawns and the battering wind now cemetery quiet. The human walked the beat with minimal tweets.

A feline and fox, social distancing trotted by. Huffs, words fluttered the sphere. It was these two chaps expressing their agro, so crystal clear.

Continue reading “Mon”


He had spotted her before, racking his brain and thinking where exactly. Then, a light bulb moment, one of those digital dating app thingies, perhaps.

Approaching her as she sat reading a book entitled “The Lakes Don’t Dry” by Mutew Samu. He didn’t have to, but a stubborn man he was, so out of the blue:

He said,

Hey good morning, you are the lady that disliked me yesterday?

Smirking and smiling, were the chaps expressions.

Continue reading “Relations”