The dark clouds are gathering on the horizon.
The low rumble echoes over virgin leaves
That have only known the light for two weeks.
The rolling hills amplify the boom,
Concentrating it until the deafening roar
Causes the wild to scatter and the earth to vibrate.

The chaos that those clouds portent is only a faded vision
In the minds of the elders.
The children continue to play in the fields, in the lawns.
They can have no idea of their impending fate.
The youth laugh, giggle, run, tease, jump, frolic.

Suddenly it comes from over the last hill.
Suddenly it comes as a blast of wind, a quick moving front.
It is on the children, it is on the aged,
It is on the forgotten, the underappreciated, the crème.
It rolls down the side of the protecting mount like an avalanche
Picking up speed as it descends.

When it has consumed the mass,
When every corner has been filled,
And the select understand it, can one see a change.
The change is almost imperceptible.
One must know where to look.
Where the children run and scream looking
For the safety of their blue checkered aprons.
Where the hardy backs of the prime exchange
The glances of the uneasy.
Look the other way.

Look toward the aging widow in her small garden.
Look toward the weary traveler who has seen fairytale lands.
Look, too, toward the little child playing by himself,
And the two lovers who have stolen away beneath the oak
Far beyond the concerns of passerbys.

In the little curl of their smiles and the shimmer in their eyes
Can only then understand the significance of what is to come.
The lovers are captured by the their thoughts and their lover’s eyes.
The widow gets off her knees and straightens and fills her lungs.
The traveler stops batting the dust from his legs and raises his head heavenward.
The lonely child runs toward the edge of the schoolyard and climbs the fence.

The most wonderful fragrance has come to this town.
It is a smell that cannot be bought, cannot be made.
The odor is known to everyone, not just the elite who loves withholding.
 Yet, most turn away, seek shelter, and cower in its presence.
Only those that love life for its own sake
Can recognize the clean smell,
The scent of the coming storm.