Petrichor
Not again, they groan
as fat splashes polka dot dry soil
quenching the plants
drenching the benches
and sending the fair-weather idlers back home
so the landscape is mine now and I can prance
through the mud in my new waterproofs
and my old wellington boots to admire
the world as it puts on a coat of green and a different
set of beasties scurries about in the moist caverns
under freshly scrolled ferns
the dogs and I think we’re alone in the trees,
in the rain,
until we pause and, beneath the drops
hear the symphony of the forest
Photo by Ed Leszczynskl on Unsplash
