Night Rain By J. P. Clark

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Night Rain

By

J. P. Clark

What time of night it is

I do not know 

Except that like some fish 

Doped out of the deep 

I have bobbed up bellywise 

From stream of sleep 

And no cocks crow. 

It is drumming hard here 

And I suppose everywhere 

Droning with insistent ardour upon 

Our roof thatch and shed 

And thro' sheaves slit open 

To lightning and rafters 

I cannot quite make out overhead 

Great water drops are dribbling 

Falling like orange or mango 

Fruits showered forth in the wind 

Or perhaps I should say so 

Much like beads I could in prayer tell 

Them on string as they break 

In wooden bowls and earthenware 

Mother is busy now deploying 

About our roomlet and floor. 

Although it is so dark 

I know her practised step as

She moves her bins, bags and vats 

Out of the run of water 

That like ants filing out of the wood

Will scatter and gain possession 

Of the floor. Do not tremble then 

But turn, brothers, turn upon your side

Of the loosening mats 

To where the others lie.

We have drunk tonight of a spell 

Deeper than the owl's or bat's

That wet of wings may not fly 

Bedraggled up on the iroko, they stand 

Emptied of hearts, and

Therefore will not stir, no, not 

Even at dawn for then

They must scurry in to hide. 

So let us roll over on our back

And again roll to the beat

Of drumming all over the land

And under its ample soothing hand 

Joined to that of the sea 

We will settle to sleep of the innocent and free.

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