Petrichor.

Simply put, it would smell like petrichor.

The smell of knowing what will follow but never how

And the knowledge to discern why but not the power, or the desire, to stop it.

The rain will come, yes, but in what pattern which each individual drop fall? Will it hit uneven ground and cause a rockslide? Will it seep into, shift tectonic plates?

Create disaster out of no one’s mistake?

Or will it just create?

Will it fall in just the right way on the sidewalk, so you can use your coat to make sure your lovers new shoes don’t get wet?

Will it land on your eyes to see for you?

Cry for you?

Will it help sustain a cycle of each of these things ?

Always.

It will feed you and be you and hurt you and love you and destroy you to create you anew

But for now it is just petrichor

Petrification of your being

Knowing the change the rain brings

Makes a man live in his own shadow