An African Thunderstorm by David RubaDaviddiri

Also Read

 

From the west

Clouds come hurrying with the wind

Turning

Sharply

Here and there

Like a plague of locusts

Whirling

Tossing up things on its tail

Like a madman chasing nothing.

Pregnant clouds

Ride stately on its back

Gathering to perch on hills

Like dark sinister wings;

The Wind whistles by

And trees bend to let it pass.

In the village

Screams of delighted children

Toss and turn

In the din of whirling wind,

Women –

Babies clinging on their backs –

Dart about

In and out

Madly

The Wind whistles by

Whilst trees bend to let it pass.

Clothes wave like tattered flags

Flying off

To expose dangling breasts

As jaggered blinding flashes

Rumble, tremble, and crack

Amidst the smell of fired smoke

And the pelting march of the storm.