(...from the Greek word: ‘petros’, meaning “stone” + ‘ichor’, meaning the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology—the scent of rain on dry earth)
Waiting for the first rain
after a dry spell
has a suspense
like no other.
Its silence
calms the exhaustion
of hysterical trees,
shrugging off draught.
Its scent
lingers over fields
between blackberry lanes,
bearing their chests to the drizzle.
Its arrival
breathes most sweet lullabies of Gaia,
a gushing finger to her thirsty lips:
‘…hush now, sleep’.
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