petrichor

I’m wrapped
in your dirty tshirt
on the old porch swing

how is it that
the tang of old sweat
overrides the new
the just now soft scent of grass
and of the ground after the rain

i think of you
and the moon
the last sliver bravely shining

before it slips behind
the tallest oak tree
standing there
100 years or more

in a few more hours
when the sun paints the dew
strung across spiders’ webs
between shorn blades

I’ll wash clean
my green-stained feet
and your shirt
crumpled on the floor

Petrichor (/ˈpɛtrkɔər/) is the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil. The word is constructed from Greek πέτρα petra, meaning “stone”, and ἰχώρ īchōr, the fluid that flows in the veins of the gods in Greek mythology. from Wikipedia

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22 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. J. A. Panian
    Jun 06, 2017 @ 04:03:10

    Is this the same as the scent
    of fresh rain hitting hot pavement?
    Perhaps a sister scent, sent
    to remind us of what we’ve
    lost or given away to be
    where we are. I think of
    them both as something
    just as much tasted as
    scented, gritty and metallic
    in the back of the throat.

    I’ve just sent off a piece that speaks to this. I’ll let you know if it finds a home anywhere.

    This is rich and and deep and I’ve already borrowed from it. Hope you don’t mind.
    This line:

    “and the moon
    the last sliver bravely shining

    before it slips behind”

    made me think of shadows and planets and how things slip away from us but often return, changed and sometimes unwanted. And the last stanza–it’s actually a little spooky how much this reminds me of the piece I sent away. Yet you have dealt with these themes so much more deftly than I. Perhaps I should send it to you?

    Gosh but you do know where my muse resides….

    (p.s. if you’re suspicious, you better find at least one new follower… 😉 )

    Reply

  2. J. A. Panian
    Jun 06, 2017 @ 04:06:16

    “you have dealt with these themes so much more deftly than I”
    I was thinking of something I read recently:

    “In poetry, the cosmic is best revealed through the minutest existence. The abyss is best revealed through shallow waters.”
    –David Biespiel, The Poet’s Journey

    To often I try to dive too deep….

    Reply

  3. J. A. Panian
    Jun 07, 2017 @ 04:33:05

    Sister-scented
    poem sent.
    In your inbox.
    There it went.

    Reply

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