Did you hear it last night, the midsummer
monsoon swamping the cracked dry earth.

Did you notice your room alight, thunderbolts
flashing a declaration of might ever greater

than ourselves. Night storms darken our
hearts with shadowed worry, fears of what

morning’s illumination will bring. I reach
for your hand in the fury of the storm, holding

fast your to warmth, strength endowed. We
wait patiently for the scent of rain on cracked

dry earth after the clouds move on. It is not
hard rock earth forms to harbor safety but

the fluid that flows from the vein of God
baptizing us with promise. It is the scent

of dust after the storm that purifies the day,
a scent of hope that all will be well.

And it will.




Author’s note:

Petrichor (/ˈpɛtrɨkɔər/) is the scent of rain on dry earth, or the scent of dust after rain. The word is constructed from Greekpetros, meaning ‘stone’ + ichor, the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology. It is defined as “the distinctive scent which accompanies the first rain after a long warm dry spell”.

A very special thank you to my friend, Gary Sedlacek, for bringing this word to my attention this morning. It was just what I needed for my poem, one that had been lingering for a few days on an almost empty page. Thank you, Gary.

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