"I am large. I contain multitudes." - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

Wednesday, August 04, 2010


There is a fleeting moment that I savor.

It's that short span of time when rain clouds gather and the winds make the trees sway like dancing. Like an invisible comb was running itself through their branches, they sway. When there is no doubt that there will be a downpour. When it smells like rain, even if it isn't raining yet.

Instinctively, I close my eyes. I get goosebumps on my arms. I can feel it coming.

It's a time when you are sure that the rains will come. Those few minutes when I am uncharacteristically without doubt or question of what will happen next.

I savor that moment. I like the rain. But I like the promise of it more.

Anticipation is its own sweet intoxication.

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