The first rain is sweet surrounding the house with scent of earth and ions, moisture and memories of other days. This body is awash in form.
An ambulance wails, intent, followed by fire, police. Someone miscalculated a turn, a stop, a slick of oil and water: a moment of inattention bringing great attention. I hope everyone survived.
It is the second day of spring. Rain and tragedies unfold entirely new, yet feel familiar. It’s the same hand of cards we were dealt since day one. We’re all in and we’re going to lose our shirts; our lives.
The first rain is sweet. Again and again.