In our little
corner of Colorado
it just rained, hard,
but only for a few minutes.
We opened every window in the house.
Do you smell the wet earth, tall grasses, firs and pines?
Our bodies relax into peaceful ease, released.
You may not understand
how big a thing this is in
a place so parched and boney, crackling crisp,
with our well running dry.
Goddamn, it’s raining.
In the brief time I scribble these words
it’s passed, leaving cool air filling the house,
the electrical charge in my body
switched to negative.
Briefly, we share a moist daydream,
relief from the dust and the fear of fire,
the trees, critters, wingeds, and bugs,
But the sun will rise in the morning, and we will
slither back into the shade.
But for now we just
breathe in deeply.
June 29, 2022