The clouds are racing,

tumbling across the big sky;

driven by swirling north-westers

that sweep down the mountains,

driving the rain 

that fills the dams,

raises the water level,

but floods many houses

in the poorer areas

of the Cape Flats,

bringing despair, hardship and loss.

Still the people await the rains

with anticipation, 

as it is part of their 

spiritual upbringing,

as it is for me,

as I sit typing hoping for more,

yet fearing it too,

as the poem grows

and the spirits catch the wind

flying towards a new understanding

and the hope of peace and love.