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
It will be gone soon.
Minutes or hours will pass and the ground will need to be replenished again.
Not unlike me. Or you.
Just your ordinary introvert exploring and writing about some of the things I love: travel, music, and being human.