By Aevin Mayman
A word that describes the smell of rain.
But what about before? Could there be some
collection of sound and thought to mirror
this primordial energy that sings through the air?
A term to describe the buzz of lightning right
before it strikes; of ground that craves the touch
of absent water drops; a sky that sits,
tense. I would imagine that it would be less
of a sound, and more like the rush of
electric raindrops dancing on skin.
It might feel like imagined wind gusts pounding
against spread arms, against a smiling face.
This word could feel like jumping from the crash
of thunder, close enough to raise the hairs
along your neck. It’d feel like unrestrained
primal energy that courses through
veins. If you would dare to utter such
a word, your blood would turn to rain, your voice
to wind, your thoughts to thunder. You would be
the very thing the ground is hoping for.
Post Script Magazine. 