Zimbabwe Rain

Zimbabwe Rain

Trapped in the October furnace of rampant humidity,
Steaming slowly in superheated sluggish atmosphere,
Sweat shining on the scorching skin,
As grass seeds stick and prickle on the arms
Of your progress through the dry and yellow stems,
You plod your weary course through another
Sun-blinding day

With only the night’s mocking respite
Of soaking sheet and turgid stifling breath
To steal away promise of insensate sleep
With heat unrelenting.
Oh God, let it rain
Let it rain.

And if it comes as November’s gift,
Great boiling clouds of indigo and blue
Darkening the horizon over a grey wall of downpour,
Swallowing the hills and creeping up the valley
Towards you,
Over here, you whisper, come this way
And the storm hears you, the first faint eddy
Stirs the torpid air and all life holds its breath.

The outriders, the first, fat, fabulous drops
Begin striking their explosions of parched dry earth,
Mixing dust and mist into the everlasting smell of Africa.
Breathe deep the ecstatic, soul-soothing scent,
For the rains have come,
The rains have come.

Then the rushing torrent begins, pounding the grateful ground
With incessant barrage, flashing soil into mud in moments,
And pool and stream all red with the thirsty earth leaping to meet it,
The air above a soup of rebounding splashes, rejoicing dirt
And turbulent atmosphere,
The smell of it drowned in the wild, enormous, drenching celebration.

And then it has gone,
The last few splatters of rain slackening in diminuendo.
The sun returns to a world in sharp relief,
The air, clear and magnifying
Prepares for the evening repeat.

Line Count: 38

Word Count: 272