Envious Clouds Poem by samuel nze

It is middle May
And the sky is in a mood
Crying everyday -
What is this all about!
Always it is the drip drop
On the roof that I hear,
The pitter patter of a thousand small feet
As they hurry from the
Watery oppression on the
Road from school;
Women gather in their stuff
From the open-air market;
The clouds have envied
Their suckling babes and
Gone off in a rage
To give birth too
To nothing but water.
It is the sort of thing that envy does,
Black eyes at another's progress,
Ugly rain maker;
If you burst forth in tears
Must the sky follow suit
And spoil our trade?