April Biker

This morning, I was a bird in the April rain. Not a particularly coordinated or fast bird, but a bird nonetheless, flying down the suburban hills on my bike, hundreds and thousands of droplets of water splashing up onto my biking pants and around my eyes and cheeks. And I could smell that rare, wonderful smell that only those in green climates who pay attention get to smell: the scent of April rain at dawn. The smell of the earth awakening to spring.