African Rain

Delayed in a downpour, 
In a doorway we embrace. 
A confusion of cerulean blue 
and grey. 
African skies cry, raging tears 
into golden sand. 
The wind a gentle wraith, 
stirred suddenly insane, 
blowing rain 
in swirling swaths of wet life.

The warmth 
running down tanned 
and brown burnt faces. 
Stunned they stand 
in the sheltered places 
as rain collects
and runs in raging rivulets
and rapids over dimpled paths and 
concrete pavement.

Drumming off stone and bone 
and awnings of canvas and plastic 
the fantastic dance of cascading 
African rain 
in the dazzle of returning sun 
as the last of it runs to drains. 
Wet stains evaporate in steaming heat 
under skies once more blue, 
a world lighter and brighter 
washed aglow.  
I take your hand and on we go to

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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