Smell of rain

An underrated scent.

Nothing quite like the smell of rain to ease your pain, it’s strange, the very thing that creates this wondrous scent soon douses it with its own presence. Causing a grim atmosphere as grey skies cloud your senses. 

We never think about a scent fillings our lungs, picture how gas or freshly cut grass fill our lungs. My favourite is that real rett rain. Yano that real wet rain that you don’t even know you’re getting wet until you’re already drenched. Sun is penetrating, now there’s rainbows in your periphery. My clothes are now stuck to me. I don’t care I’m purified. Wide eyed, dilated pupils cause contrasts in my vision. 

I feel an ample ambition to absorb my surroundings in such a way, that from the now darkened ground, falling beads on railings, sloshing  gutter pipes holes in cloud, breaks of light I can immerse myself in it. 

It’s linked to memory the sense of smell. Mine is one of being timed as I ran down to my front gate and back to be greeted by a closed door. Never did get the exact time I was exposed to the elements for. Strange that? 

Eventually these clouds part and pedestrians holster their umbrellas as a liquid conflict no longer exists. A damnation of damp and saturated souls shudder as the last droplets drip from the tips of their hair. Cascade down their back causing a grimace meanwhile pushing their chest out showing their eagerness to fight another storm one day.