Screen call

 Screen Call

Sunday nights we would sit out

on the porch listening to the 

drums of New Mt Zion thinking

it sounded as the Waziri in the 

Tarzan movie and we would 

shiver in the swelter heat. 

Eventually the tribe would 

disperse, sparing us to have 

to tuck in early for the dawn bus.

We were timid to venture the

next afternoon across the field

in the direction of Zion, fearing 

some hungry cannibals lurking.

We never ventured too far from 

sparse back porch, where we 

knew when time came, mamma

would call us home, safe from

the drummers of New Mt Zion ever searching for a meal.