Oblivious 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. It’s hard to imagine existing with your nose stuck in the air and 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. Misty Skaggs is an author, artist and activist hunkered down at the end of a gravel road in East Kentucky. Read more of her poems and see pictures of her favorite tree on Instagram @mistymarierae.