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Petrichor: A poem by Jellie N.Wyckelsma

Summer retreats, leaving behind a parched land 
Where life no longer seems to exist Tired plumes of 
grass and naked river boulders Sigh with relief when 
the first raindrops as God-sent Kiss the barren soil, 
trickle-down rocks To revive old rivers, verifying their 
story of their past cascading glory. 


The ethereal blood of the ancient Gods is released

I inhale its earthly scent It nuzzles my senses Like 
sniffing the yellow pages of an old book  Nature’s 
recovery never stops to astound me The land is 
reborn As far as the eye can see.