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Before the first light, the house comes alive,

A quiet hum where memories thrive.

Shadows stretch as voices rise,

Carrying echoes of years gone by.

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The older ones laugh, their stories unfold,

Tales of mischief, both new and old.

Children’s feet race through the yard,

Their joy unfiltered, their laughter unmarred.

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Friends arrive with warmth in their eyes,

No knock needed, no formal goodbyes.

They blend seamlessly, as though they belong,

In this circle of care, where bonds grow strong.

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The kola nut is passed, its meaning profound,

A ritual binding all those gathered around.

Elders speak, their wisdom clear,

Each word a thread that draws us near.

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The day demands hands and hearts to unite,

Every task a reflection of love’s quiet might.

From the smallest duty to the grandest cheer,

The spirit of giving holds us here.

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As dusk descends and the stars take their place,

The warmth of the hearth mirrors each face.

Songs rise softly, drums take the lead,

Rhythms of gratitude, simple yet deep.

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For the season’s beauty is not in display,

But in the love we carry, come what may.

In every smile, in every shared plate,

In the timeless bonds that never abate.

This is the soul of the season’s call:

Not the gifts, nor the feast, but the joy of us all.