The first rain of the year.
It's not quite surprising for the rain to drop in unexpectedly before the summer. As I write, the drops are pattering away steadily, the smell of the soil permeates the air and I long for things I know not.
I lean out of the window and the drops fall on me, rolling down my cheeks in a cool embrace of reassurance in the face of the oppressive heat of the day.
The wind is more playful and he lifts the white and red curtains of my window, and with him, he brings the dreams of the earth.
The smell...I could keep inhaling the smell of the arid, parched soil cooled by the rain. There cannot be a more potent harbinger of optimism...
The scent clings to my body and my hair and will come to me in my dreams and tell me, that after a long, hot day, the rain will come.