seed in the wet dark

Warm, rainy summer mornings like today remind me of one of the perks of living in my car. Sleeping with the windows cracked for fresh air, my first concious breath of the day would be full of the heavy moisture-filled breath of Gaia, blowing gently into my nostrils. That scent of moist earth fills me with the sense of promise, as if I were a seed in the wet dark. Like Whitman, I long to be a part of it.