*The December Rain*
The hoes have long been sharpened.
Twice the fields have been cleared.
Baskets of seeds are hanging in the village huts.
Energy has long been gathered.
On their hut doorposts they stood.
Watching the sun leaving the earth.
While nothing again, as yesterday had come.
Watching the hope of the day disappearing with the going sun.
The sand is now hard.
The streams are about to dry up.
The sun is ever hot.
Trees are ever-shading.
They waited and waited.
They hoped and hoped.
They wished and wished.
But like yesterday it never came.
by Leonardo Makuya