The Rainy Day

I don't think it's raining here in the desert yet. My blinds are still shut against the world. I see, though, that the light, sneaking past the faux wooden white blinds, is pale, weak ... grey. I haven't gone outside to collect the morning paper so I don't know if the smell of rain is in the air. There is a scent of musk, sage, dirt and sand that hangs in the air when rain is near. It's carried by the sharp claws of the cutting winter wind - it's carried from places where the rain has already started, touched earth and released these scents into the air.