Thursday, 30 August 2012

152. Petrichor

Some mornings, the thin cotton sheets
are heavy with humidity, the fabric pills
leaving invisible scratches on my thighs
as I struggle to find the elusive comfort
of a few more minutes burrowed in bed.
Instead, I dream of rain on the metal roof,
lightning streaking through the open land,
illuminating the distant hills for just a moment,
the rumbling drawl of thunder overhead,
making us feel alive, connected, and small.
But when I give up, drag myself out of bed,
rubbing my thighs, a half-remembered itch,
the sky is dark with the pre-dawn light
but no clouds break up the flawless sky:
just another humid day in the coastal desert.

1 comment:

  1. This is gorgeous. I'm listening to rain clatter on my window air conditioner unit right now and I love it.

    I think when I was living in Anaheim the worst thing was that it never rained. For nearly three months, there was no rain. We once exclaimed over it when we got to Long Beach and the ground was wet - it had rained, but we weren't there yet. I can't imagine being somewhere where it rains that little for longer. (I have Karratha on my weather on my phone along with all the other places I have friends. It's as hot as it is here in the opposite season! Geez!)

    Also Who referencees are never bad ;)