On Rainy Season Poem by Haruna issa AlHassan

Sometimes in the rainy season,
The gourd would be empty
And the wells would be in arid
Only because of Folake ceremonies
Farmers would suck the barks
And join their forefathers in haste.
Though, it all awaken no attention
The day, the cloud rumble and lamented
Like a wounded lion hurt in the tail,
Men attired in red appeared as usual
All disintegrated as the cardinal points
Muttering mystic incantations
They've been delaying the blessings of today,
Promising tomorrow the future.
Suddenly, thunder struck the red ghosts
Shattered their skulls into fragments
And cracked the sky for the longing favour
They are not successful today.