Ree-Imagined Worlds

The rain didn’t smell like the usual seeded clouds tonight.

It was sharper, clearer. As though it was falling from the stars.

From the patio, the young woman stood unmoving. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the scents of clean, of petrichor, of long-ago rains.

In front of her, the silver dogs ran around the dark orange earth. They were soaked and joyful, their triangular ears on high, happy alert as they occasionally paused to give short barks of excitement or to lap at the puddles.

Beneath the yellow-edged clouds in the heavy grey sky, the vineyard glittered dark with raindrops.

Optimism flickered, wordless.

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