Semi lucid and still fluttering delicately to unfold itself from it’s multilayered lustrous sheaths, the dawn had just begun to announce itself tentatively with a bluish and milky tone. It’s shy demeanour brushing lightly upon the sleeping community, still immerse within its colourful reveries and blissful dreamworlds. Some bold cockerels had also equally began to offer their own break of the dawn announcements with a raucous accompaniment, somewhere in the distance a church bell rang, when suddenly the quietude of the dawn was shattered by a series of high pitched, searingly distressing and agonised SOS cries. The imploring cries rippled sporadically like high velocity waves in short staccato spurts across the semi lucid dawn, furrowing deep at the core of conscience and evoking feelings of dread and a foreboding of an unknown terror being visited on the community. It’s feverish intensity, quivering with a palpable weightiness of fear and anguish, sweltered against the auditory senses in the early dawn like piercing hot coals.
https://www.tanka-fonta.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Thebushtelegraph.jpg 1041 1458 Site-Editor http://www.tanka-fonta.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/tanka-fonta-logo.png Site-Editor2021-04-29 12:08:282021-04-29 12:12:58The Bush Telegraph & The Poll Tax