Monday, August 7, 2017


I keep dreaming of the rain. A week ago....

From the kitchen window I watched the darkness swallow the evening, damp grey-green trees fading to glistening black silhouettes against the clouds that tumbled about the sky. There is something about summer rain...that sultry humidity that builds for hours like a lover's flirtation and then the rush of pounding release infused with the scent of freshly mowed grass, distant bonfires, and hot pavement. The drunken flight of brave fireflies as they attempt to dance despite the deluge, the sway of branches filling the night with the sound of wind and leaves and thrashing.

I hesitated in the doorway to the back porch, the storm louder than the house behind me and everything inside of me. I stepped out till the rain was just skimming my arms, softly...another step and then one more and I slowly sank down to sit on the top step. Closing my eyes, I let the day slip away and focused just on the rain. It was heavy - not a sprinkle or shower - but that drenching wetness that ran thick fingers through my hair and traced paths across my scalp; slipping over my cheekbones, under my jaw and then down my neck to slide along my sundress. The sky cracked and I could feel the thunder inside my bones.

I remember playing endlessly in the rain as a girl. Now? Now I keep an umbrella in the car and plan ahead and shorten errands when the clouds gather...I skirt around the edges and watch through glass as the world rinses the dust away. But not that night. That night I let the rain pull the worries from my mind, wash the doubts and the fog and the uncertainty from my soul. It scoured the shadows from the corners and left me soaked and somehow...clearer.

I stood. I was astonished at the weight of my dress - so easy and loose, now it clung like an unwieldy second skin; wrapping about my ankles, the thin straps digging into the flesh of my shoulders. I left wet footprints and entire puddles behind me as I climbed the stairs. Suddenly chilled, the shower's heat permeated the room while the storm still raged in the night and I slipped silk over my head, braided my hair... I felt lighter. Rather than launder it, I hung the dress to dry in the shower and the next morning it smelled of rain.

I wore it again.


Mary Degli Esposti said...

Sundresses that smelled like rain would never have to go on sale, not even in the dead of winter.
Do you even know about the lemming principle?

So utterly unique this "poem" is. Almost every time I come here these read like poems.

Chantel said...

Dear Mary - my goodness, if I could buy a dress that smelled like rain forever, it would be my favorite! (it would be a pale green...have you heard Morphine's song, "You Look Like Rain?" It's one of my favorites) And your comment about poetry is so kind...

I know about the lemming idea and the studies done with children but which particular lemming principle are you referencing?

Mary Degli Esposti said...

Actually, with the lemmings question I was teasing a bit since I was referencing the lemmings all jumping off the cliff...all the followers, with you being such an original.

I've not heard the song, but I will listen to it soon.

Lisa Southard said...

I have discovered you via Geo also! We share a love of nature, clearly - I think your clothes smell better than mine, I have a knack for getting a dung splash with my rain. Your writing is lovely and I love the attention you pay to life here :-)
Thank you for taking a chance on my novel, I hope it's time and money well spent for you.
xx ~ Lisa

Chantel said...

Lisa - thank you for stopping by. I'm looking forward to your novel immensely and plan on a quiet afternoon in my hammock to enjoy it!

Lisa Southard said...

Hammocks are the best! xx