Rain in Kalgoorlie

I hear the screen door slam so
the cats out for the night while 
In the sleepout I lie under the fan
that slowly stirs the limpid air.
I smoke another Chesterfield;
the house settles and contracts;
the dark is velvet with moths,
batting against the fly screens.
                     
Then a cooling breeze arrives 
bringing with it a smell of rain.
A white flash – close rumbles,
heralding the welcome arrival,
the smell of it on the red earth:
starting now as a patter upon
the iron roof, then a drumming
that comes – faster and faster:
the wet rods of drenching rain.

I stub out my last cigarette 
and step out onto the veranda,
breath in the smell of sweet rain,
strip off my singlet and shorts
to walk out into the rain, and
letting it lash delicious onto my
dry receptive skin mouth and hair:
such precious rain in Australia, 
that most precious element of all.

                                
          D G Moody 2023