The Scent of Wind and Rain


The scent of wind and rain permeates my space.
It is a clean, cool, vital, inescapable
Yet elusive presence that seduces.

It isn’t the breezy, earthy scent of low plains showers…
Nor the still, mossy, woody aroma of deep forests soaks…
It isn’t the gusty tired smell of city drizzle …
Nor the briny tang of sea driven downpours…

Perhaps it isn’t the rain at all that carries this heady scent…
Thousands of rivulets
Brushing briars and heather,
Pine needles and tattered leaves
Countless wet fingers combing wild thyme,
Skipping over shy mushrooms
And smoothing ancient rocks…

The scent of wind and rain
Is the scent of rebirth and freedom,
Of irresistible gurgling giggles
Sung in a tumble of air and water
Rolling down the mountain.

It is the scent of life laughing.


Drawing: Rain by Gattanday

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to The Scent of Wind and Rain

  1. Tu es vraiment une magicienne.
    Tes mots me transportent toujours.


  2. makagutu says:

    I like the scent of rain after a dry spell


  3. PapaBear says:

    I LIKE it, Emm. Has a really nice, easy flow to it. (pun intended). I like the rain too. Even cold, it has a fresh, cleansing quality about it.


  4. You are so extraordinarily talented. Beautiful writing.


  5. john zande says:

    Gorgeous, as ever.


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