if you try and convince me
you can’t smell the rain coming
i’m liable to conclude
you’re full of shit. 
or else i’d shake my head
and bless your heart.
what a sad state to exist in,

with your nose stuck in the air
but not a clue
what the wind is trying to tell you. 
listen. the rain crows
are cooing soft warnings
as they pick through the grass
waiting for the worms to wake up. 
look. every little leaf
turns its pale belly skyward. 
there’s a storm coming
and they’re ready to drink it all in.