It’s raining as I am driving home. Drizzling really. There’s something amazing about cloudy skies and drizzle that’s feels so romantic. Everything suddenly seems to slow down and take on a poetic dimension.
In a land where the rains are sparse, every drop is celebrated. The trees look cleaner, the roads reflect the world and everyone wears a smile. The radio stations immediately switch to tracks that accentuate the mood further. As I flip channels, I realise that everyone has slowed down the tempo- or is it in my mind?
World over people swear by the romance of the poetic smell that the earth emits on being kissed by the first rain. Only recently did I learn there’s a word that describes the phenomenon- Petrichor.
I read up a little more about the word: “Petrichor (pron.: /ˈpɛtrɨkər/ or /ˈpɛtrɨkɔər/) is the scent of rain on dry earth. The word is constructed from Greek, petra, 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 gentle poem titled Petrichor, I found online:
Petrichor
The week brings with it chaos
As its once golden skies
Blend together into grayness
Forming clouds that fill my eyes
But, Wednesday comes in soft
Bringing its tender arms to enclose
And the muted heather waits
For the tallness of the day to move in close
In between the seven I find it
The cure for the storm overhead
Sanctuary from the darkness
That lingers long while in my bed
I long for the day to roll in
For the rush of green mixed with blue
As they fall upon the windows of ebony
Somehow understanding their hue
Like the scent of the earth soaked with water
Its invisible mist rises from within
I breath in deep, and linger on its purifying scent
And wait for the next week to begin
Shawna Burke
SEEKING ANSARS 
Leave a Reply