The Rain

Listen to the gossip of the rain,

dancing on my windows and jumping on the pavement,

thrumming and battering on the roofs,

plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night,

when it hits the ground, becomes a rivulet.

Listen to the rain falling from the sky,

tracks blending into the fresh sky-fallen trickles,

crackle dry verandah like an old walkie-talkie coming to life,

beat the panes like timorous wings,

and quench our endless thirst.

Listen to the pouring rain,

pouring from dark skies,

crashed deafeningly on the corrugated metal roof,

fell down constantly like an endless bucket of water

 being poured down from the heaven,

sounds like the heavens are knocking on my door,

droplets thrashed at the ground,

with ferocity matchless,

beat upon your heads with silver liquid drops.

By Seth Yuhi Musinga