The Fall Of The Rains Poem by Bartholomew Arkoh Boamah Sarbah

Slowly the clouds became pregnant;
And slowly we waited for her to deliver
In anxiety and curiosity
Time went on, grew old and deaf
Day turned to weeks and the weeks to months

Then came the darkening of the cloud,
The hustling and whispering of the wind
And the heavy fall of the trashing rains;
The pleasant pains of labour in June,
That bring goodwill upon our lands

The crops dangle gracefully
In joyful celebrations,
As the slow dance of a calm sea,
And untold happiness clinged our hearts,
As we think of the harvests in the months to come.