The smell of rain is in the air;
Summer must be creeping near.
The cold air has left
Leaving the warmth to swoop in.
The fog hovers in the morning
As the only remnant of winter;
Its white veil makes vague the ground
Through what little light the clouds allow

I disrobe in the morning's watery rays
I want the rains to cleanse me whole,
Let them wash away the woes of winter;
Summer must be creeping near.
This is my place to become summer,
My place to break out of my troubles.
For too long they have blanketed my mind
As the snow has this very field.

The smell of rain is in the air;
Summer must be creeping near.
My mind is slowly beginning to clear.

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