Petrichor (Hour 1)

The turning of a leaf speaks in deep rhythms to ring,
as the wind gently whispers through thick boughs of green fingers
anxiously awaiting the oncoming rain.

Even the soil seems loosened from under my feet, respiring,
giving way to make room for moisture to create new,
longing for the return of water.

The sounds of the sky draw near,
suffocated with heavy clouds,
purples drowning in grey.

As the heavens growl in preparation to weep,
the smoke’s pattern dances upon an alien wind.
Firelight sways bright, from within the circle of rocks near my feet,
flecks of heated kisses singe the hairs on my body.

The combustion of dry earth returns its resonance to the winds,
purified through fire and violently ascending into the celestial expanse,
to be welcomed in saturation,
to the gaseous culminations of the churning firmament,
and swell within the thunderous reservoirs of empyrean waters.

I, the Earth, the stars, my breath, all captured in awe, awaiting the falling of the rain.


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