The rain has just concluded
late, on a Sunday afternoon
although that may deter others
that is one of my favorite times to run
along the creek by the woods
near my home in Colorado
🌧️
The trail is deserted
the creek overflows onto the path
I breathe in the cool, moist air
it is heavy and invigorating
all at the same time
the dampness that still fills the air
amplifies the aromas around me
🌧️
My nostrils are filled with wild smells
petrichor, the smell of damp earth
wet grass and floral scents
mint, sage, thistles, pine
heady and overwhelming
in the best possible way
🌧️
The ground beneath my feet is soft
impressions from my shoes are left in soil
some dips in the dirt path contain puddles
I jump over them
yet my shoes and feet are quickly soaked
I hardly notice
for there are so many other things to observe
🌧️
The birds and rabbits rapidly scatter from the path
startled by the sudden appearance of a human
for how many people haunt the wooded path
immediately after a heavy downpour?
The small animals scurry swiftly back into the brush
that was their refuge during the storm
🌧️
Bees and beetles rest on blossoms
waiting for their wings to dry
I alarm some butterflies that were on flowers near the path
they flit away, flying low to the ground
for their wings are still fragile from the rain
🌧️
I run past a small waterfall
the roar of the rushing, overfull banks
plunging down into the creek
is music to my ears
it is just me and the sound of the water now
🌧️
I keep running and come upon a clearing
Bushes and trees give way to a meadow
filled with a kaleidoscope of colors
purples, yellows, pinks, and whites
droplet covered blooms each with a unique fragrant scent
🌧️
The cloud cover still present above provides a pleasant shelter
though I should be overheating by now
running on a summer afternoon
I am still surprisingly cool
the shadows the clouds cast lend to the feeling of solitude
it is just me, nature, and the coming darkness
🌧️
Slowly the birds and bugs start to come alive again
I hear the song of robins
and the chirp of crickets
along with the creek
that never stops flowing and gurgling along
sloshing, swishing, and swirling
🌧️
I am at peace
It feels like the run has hardly begun
but now I am nearly back home
it starts to rain again
I quicken my pace
upon arriving home I finally notice
I am covered in mud
and drenched all the way through
but it was all so lovely
I hardly even noticed
🌧️
Oh to run after a rain
late, on a Sunday afternoon
along a rushing creek,
through a forest and meadow
with only nature as my companion
is one of my favorite things to do.
🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️🌧️
Just in case you were wondering, no, this is NOT a photo of the creek I run by. Granted, I hate having to be paranoid and I would love to post a photo of the creek this poem refers to, but you never know on the internet who may come across what you post and decide to be a creeper so safety first. Also, I ACTUALLY started writing this poem back in the summer of 2023. Yes, I am THAT slow. But I often like to go through many revisions with my poems and also life happens and somehow YEARS pass on something you meant to finish much sooner.
© Rebekah Krause 2026
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