Rainfall Sonata Poem by olawale famodun

Tap the triangle with its metal rod
To usher in the scent of rainfall,
The clouds rumble like the conga drum.
Hit the bass drum as well, hit it so well
And let the timpani react slowly or violently,
Or the bassoon gives way to the harp
And make lull, as silence is a sort of melody itself.
The acoustic guitar breaks the silence.
The wind is blowing, the electric guitar is charged like
The skirmish of the thunder and lightning;
The keyboard and the glockenspiel get cautioned as
Cymbals clash against one another,
Rain is falling, viola and cello in divine dialogue-
Dissonance connives with consonance,
Snare drums’ staccato rendered like
Water pattering on roof tops,
French horn and tuba silenced by the piccolo.
Lull again, water everywhere, wet ground;
The clarinet brings out the rainbow
From the horizon, like cobra snakes sneaking out to
Rise, dancing out of the Indian artiste’s basket
Who played the bansuri.