petrichor

In an autumn forest at dusk, waiting for the sunset,

I smell the Earth releasing oil in anticipation of a shower.

Lying on my back and swaddled in a blanket of flame-kissed foliage,

I listen as cicadas and crickets entertain the early evening.

Then I close my eyes as the first fat drops of rain break across my forehead,

sliding down my cheeks like so many unshed tears.

The universe, doing for me what I cannot do for myself.

Petrichor- the sky is crying.