When it rains, earthworms wiggle onto the sidewalk to take it in. They sky roils with clouds that I'd call peaceful. Gentle, even, smattering the road and the grass and the worms with rain.
I like to listen to the way the wind acts before a storm--how the clouds chase it and it stirs the bushes before sweeping away to make room for the rain/ I like the way the drops sound when I'm falling asleep. But above all is the smell.
How do you describe a smell? This one is earthy, real, untouched. No matter how badly humans screw up the world, the smell of rain will remain. It's open, honest, almost raw. It smells brown and grey, like freedom, like silence. It smells impossible, but comfort comes knowing it's not.
- Petrichor -
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Contemplations
RandomA collection of vignettes describing words without using the words themselves. Rather than using the chosen words as titles, I've placed them beneath the vignettes.
