The sound reaches me first
(tap tap tap) then a steady rush of drops. Peering out the window I see the dark skies, throw open the door, and inhale deeply. The smell of wet dirt. Thirsty and anxious to be made soft by the rain. In the places where the earth has been hardened the drops just slide away: Sideways not down as the ground refuses to give up and let the rain in. It rushes down hills, into streets, and down gutters. Wasting the opportunity to grow a flower or a weed. To have a purpose tomorrow. But, at this moment the smell of rain in the desert is everything as needs are met and the hard surface takes in the luscious moisture, the growing wetness, the soft sounds, gentle caress, and fulfilled desire is enough For now. It will be gone soon. Minutes or hours will pass and the ground will need to be replenished again. Not unlike me. Or you.
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Celerah HewesJust your ordinary introvert exploring and writing about some of the things I love: travel, music, and being human. Categories
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November 2020
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