Waiting for the Rain to End

Poem of waiting

Photo by Matteo Catanese on Unsplash

I watch the rain fall,
blown in
gusts of wind,
listen to the roof drip
drop, drip
through holes in the
Spanish tile

I sip coffee and wonder when it will end, this
rain in the dry season, this
perpetually unexpected existence.

Puddles gather on the floorboards.

I wait for a break in the clouds as some
await the second coming,
no one knows the day or hour.
Soon, soon
stuck in a jam
be there soon, I promise you.

Surely then the rains will cease,
and roads turn from mud to dust,
corn stalks change from green to brown,
wither, curl, and touch the ground.

Surely, if anything is certain,
this waiting can’t last forever.

Zamani (some time ago), there were predictable short and long rains in Kenya. In my time, there has either been too much rain or too little. What should have been October-November rains, this year are continuing as torrential storms in February.

This is terrible for the small shamba farmers that depend on produce for their livelihood and personal food supply.