walking out of my therapist’s office
after an unexpected rainshower
the pavement was temporarily infused
with shadow, the petrichor
sweet and somber
resonated in the not-yet-liquid in the air
and oppressed my hair,
and clothing, too, 
in a way most southerners are accustomed
as if nature herself felt need to state
“bless your heart” upon her silence
interrupted by my self-conscious musings
as if she knew nothing
of true sorrow

or maybe, just
she resolved her own systems herself
on her time
and cared not that I
had left my windows cracked