The sky had called a durbar and all the clouds had gathered. He wanted to hear of their stories, the tales they had from the far away lands that they had each floated to. They spoke of many things. Some of how they had watered crops; others of how they had flooded out rodents from people’s homes while carrying away the cats that had shirked their duties. Some spoke of filling up and breaking dams; and others of blessing maidens’ weddings.

The sky was greatly pleased, and said ‘Let the feast begin’.

Down here, rain sprinkled softly on the dusty path, plucking off the wings of the bare lose soil- the sky was having a durbar.



Nana Yaa (c) 2016



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