Season of rain, it is you agin! It is you again! Season of rain, are you not ashamed of thyself? How cruel are you?!. Just last year you made millions a pitiable homeless; rode hundreds in that torrential pool in Modakeke village. Awu! Season of rain, do you still remember about the little children that were playing in the evening, (in the groov), and suddenly you clapped them in with your hurrican wind in Ogbomosho? Murderer! Listen, their mothers are still bittered as they keep burning incense in their memories in Ile-Ife. What a pity! Harvest of rain, it is you again. Hadly one would forget the pitter-patter and the thunder-clap you brought last year and which you showcased in Ogun . Yet, you are not belleful. Weeping skies, grandmum still adjusting the leaking thatches and, the hearth, still performing the burnt-offering under the rack which atop are kwashiorkored fishes in Okrika. Oh season of rain! How long will you torment the top soil- as obviously as we do see it being eroded by you in Anambra ? And worse, the croaking onomatopoeic of the toads are not melodious to the ear-drum in Ajegule. Yet, you do bring them as your choir. This is serious! Season of rain , how long will you stop to do us a deed that bad? And besides, I wish you know how cold I am while typing this.Spank you!