Ode to the President

Hardy jewel of the sun-scorched savannah
By the farmer’s hand plucked and planted
Among wailing shrubs and herbs foisted
Deafening cries of concern bellows a-far

Hardy jewel of the sun-scorched savannah
From grassy plains to concrete forests
Made king over brawn, brine and grime
With seven fingers of a leprous hand proclaim
Frothing sweet soot of pollen dust anew

Tardy jewel of the sun-scorched savannah
Frail as the lonesome stalk in harmattan gale
By honey-tongued thorns and thistles stifled
By supple climb and princely sprout tame
Stormy waters troubled at the lapping sea

Trepid jewel of the sun-scorched savannah
Love of all but loved of none
Your soft sweet sweat be loot for the daring
Sweet seasoned allure of frazzled foliage
Fated peel and sod for rightful profit

Wilted jewel of the sun-scorched savannah
Still from the healthy blue stalk was
Shoot of a storied sop of many plantations past
Yet reaching tender stalks many moons anon
For the secret wonders of Arabian Gilead