“An African Thunderstorm” - David Rubadiri.
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 tress 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 wing whistles by
Whilst trees bend to let us
pass
Clothes were like tattered
flags
Flying off
To expose dangling
breasts
As jagged blinding flashes
Rumble, tremble, and
crack
Amidst the smell of fired
smoke
And the pelting march of
the storm.
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