When the rains return

You can tell by the petrichor in the air.

It gives off somewhat of a poignant odor,

Something which hasn’t graced our presence in

Quite some time.


But we don’t relegate ourselves to the indoors.

We’re better than that. Instead, we charge out there

And feel the full force of nature pounding our skin ,

Letting us know how inconsequential it can become.


We let it all seep in until it becomes part of us,

Until we can’t tell where the rain ends and we begin.

When all is said and done, we’ll cross the threshold once more

And let nature be the eyes we have since disregarded,

Staring profoundly out the window,

Always looking at everything but seeing nothing

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