I stepped into autumn rain-

it was cold as it wet my feet
near a rusted black mailbox.

Walking a cracked and weather-beaten driveway,
bent down-
smelled odors of dampened pavement.

Fragrances of autumn when rain showers or pours,
reflect stark distinctions-
from when the weather is warm and dry.

Can't stop wondering, if we're headed toward
a rainy season. That wouldn't bother me as long as
rain-
pattering on surfaces of gray and
blackened asphalt roads and country drives,
spoke of new beginnings-
through observant eyes.

Rain on green grass-
cultivates an aroma of roots and earth.

Pounding down-
picking up steadier momentum,
as it splatters ground.

Soil christened,
by millions of clear teardrops-
streaking faces of clouds above,

rolling down-
refreshing and purifying
deepest roots, buried in dirt.

Everything appears so fresh-
seasons of reinvention,
on the surface of sidewalks and blacktops

represent-
slates wiped clean.

I breathe in-
this autumn air, surrendering
sighs of relief-
as I ponder deliberate ruminations

while listening to autumn rains.