The scent of wind and rain permeates my space.
It is a clean, cool, vital, inescapable
Yet elusive presence that seduces.
It isn’t the breezy, earthy scent of low plains showers…
Nor the still, mossy, woody aroma of deep forests soaks…
It isn’t the gusty tired smell of city drizzle …
Nor the briny tang of sea driven downpours…
Perhaps it isn’t the rain at all that carries this heady scent…
Thousands of rivulets
Brushing briars and heather,
Pine needles and tattered leaves
Countless wet fingers combing wild thyme,
Skipping over shy mushrooms
And smoothing ancient rocks…
The scent of wind and rain
Is the scent of rebirth and freedom,
Of irresistible gurgling giggles
Sung in a tumble of air and water
Rolling down the mountain.
It is the scent of life laughing.
Drawing: Rain by Gattanday