The scent the air as August begins to fade and thunderheads roll over the land. Puffy clouds toil and wrap rhemsekves around the sun, casting a shadow far too soon, and spilling drops of fading summer to the earth. But it is in that smell, both earthy and clean, that my heart returns to youth. That I feel the dampness of falling skies and remember broad mouthed smiles as my brothers powered our bikes about the neighborhood. It is in the slight chill contrasting the heavy warm air that my lips press together remembering a kiss amongst the hidden stars. It’s the pattering gain at wooden boards them at revisits recording mixed takes in the tree house and hiding out during man hunt. It is summer rain that rejuvenates the young man in me.