A trickle, a drizzle started it all. But, not before grey clouds came rolling in. One drop, then two progressing to a sprinkling upon the earth…saving us from a concerning drought. There is a whispering amongst the trees that wasn’t there before as they drink their drink. Sounds of the sky spilling, crying upon the earth. There’s a tempo, a beat, a pattern to the sound if I listen, if I feel it’s wetness upon my skin. Rhythm is now steady, a flow of pitters and patters that a moment ago was just silence. Progression from steady stream to a heavy pour, Mother flowing with energy, reveling in it. Flashing vision providing warning, a thunderous crack splits the stillness. Brisk touch, it awakens and focuses. The sounds mellow the mind to a state that helps soothe the soul. This is the only redemption I find. Allowing me to become wet and wash away the worry, to scourge my terrestrial sins, to embrace more than just my possessions. Now slowed down to a trickle, a drizzle. Sweet, musky petrichor fills the senses and grasps my mind. A clean slate; a ground of rebirth. New life, fresh thought to move forward.
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