Petrichor: home, soil, and rain

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Free Association.”

Take my brain and mushroom cloud it

split neuronal atoms and watch them dance in spring sunbeams:


We lay on emerald and watched titans undulate the clouds

like they were winter rugs brought outside to air.

The trees, old matrons heavy with care,

swayed rushes of antiquated maternity.

Wintergreen contrasts of snow on spring growth,

a blooming violet glittering with droplets,

bending subtly under the life-giving weight

and all the more beautiful for its burden.

We took off our shoes

squelched in mud puddles and

recognized our oneness with the world.

I pointed to the tallest tree on campus,

remarked how lovers may have inscribed their names

and though bumps in a ring of rings are the only evidence,

it is just as true a moment as it ever was.

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