strange words - Magnum ki Suros 2018

sw - petrichor

(n.) the smell of earth after rain.

   As the wind relaxes into the valley, the scent rises on its currents. It brings forth the image of dewdrops clinging to pine leaves, and wood chip filled soil dark with the presence of forgotten rain. A bird trills into the emptiness of the valley, hopping from one branch and into the sky. Every wingbeat spreads the scent along each updraft. It brings the steeped air to those at the mountainside, calming them.

   The scent is unique to earth, especially evident after nature's soft tears. The traces of somber soil and the abandoned remnants of a downpour sift into the air. They stay until they reach the cities, nature's wind fleeing from the pollution of the humans' factories and vehicles. But at the point between the rural reign and the urban destruction, the wind extends the scent and waits. Waits for those of nature to step from their shelters of wood and stone, waits as they take a deep breath and just like the valley's wind, relax.

   When the wind returns to the valley, the sky is crying. Loudly as soul wrenching sobs thunder across the cloud covered expanse and as shrieking lightning arcs between it and the earth. Knowing its purpose, the wind enacts the sky's rattling breaths, rushing through the tall grasses and sturdy trees. Some will fall and when the sky's sadness finally trembles into an empty sorrow, they will have disturbed the soil below. The wind will relax and once again, the scent will be set adrift.