Petrichor

Remember when the thunder frightened you?

Counting the seconds between the strikes of lightning that illuminated the sky,

Anticipating the rolling growl of an angry Mother Earth.

One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi.

A boisterous crescendo,

A rattling boom,

It made you tremble,

When you were small.

But when swollen storm clouds finally burst,

Stirring up the desert dust,

The atmosphere transformed,

And all your fears dispersed.

Wet dirt,

Wet clay,

Asphalt,

Grass and backyard bouquet.

A fusing of grit and pure,

Of clean and unclean,

Of Heaven and Earth.

Now you and the thunder are dear old friends,

And you yearn for it like a lost love,

You ache for the comfort of its roars upon the wind,

Pounding like a bass drum.

Thumping, beating, shaking,

Filling the dark, swollen sky until climax,

Soothing you with the first drops of rain that take you back,

Back to the first time you smelled the wet desert soil,

And the electricity in the air.

Back when things were simple,

When you lived without a care.